


irresistible you

by SumiBliss



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Canon Universe, Charismatic He Tian, Denial of Feelings, Drama, Love/Hate, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious He Tian, Obstinate Mo, Romance, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumiBliss/pseuds/SumiBliss
Summary: Just the sight of that cocky bastard is enough to make Mo Guan Shan vacillate between fucking him and running away screaming bloody murder.He thinks he's teetering on the edge of insanity, but he justcan'tseem to get this poisonous need out of his bloodstream. Ears aflame, he just has to endure the tremulous want in his heart as He Tian prances around him like a nimble spider; always teasing, and so far out of reach.[A story of mischief, lust, hatred and love in equal measure, and boys being boys under the scorching heat of Hangzhou.]
Relationships: He Tian/Mo Guanshan (19 Days)
Comments: 85
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a revised edition of my old work.

He didn't know why, but it seemed like the entire universe was against him. Maybe, that's what most people his age thought. He was nothing special. Fucktards, the lot of them. There wasn't any reason why he had to slave through life, for he couldn't envision a future where his desires and aspirations would come true. It wasn't anything fancy like the shit that he kept seeing on television, though—something quiet and unassuming, where no one would come and pester him like insistent crows, and a place where his dad could find solace from all the moneylenders that trailed after him like swarming flies.

The sunlight filtering through the open windows highlighted the specs of dust floating about him, and he leaned against the wall, clutching the handle of his broom and using it as a stand. There was a brief outburst of excited female voices, before the sounds in his ears got reduced to faint murmurs. Someone switched on the fan in the classroom, and there was an indignant cry.

"What are you doing, you retard?! We jus' swept this—"

"Oh my god, do we have to sweep this mess again—"

"Haha, who was in charge of the sweepin' today, Fen Shang?"

"Don't ya look at me. Speaking of which, where is Mo Guan Shan, that idiot?"

The red-haired, lean boy in question opened his eyes, tugging on the collar of his shirt. A couple of girls brushed past him, averting their eyes as they always did. Sometimes, he wondered whether he had a sun on his forehead. Perhaps that was the reason why people turned away from him. Maybe the glare hurt them too much, those people. They said he had menacing eyes; the eyes of a troublemaker who wished to cause havoc.

"I am not cleaning that shit." Mo said evenly, propping the broom against the wall and sticking his hands into his trousers.

"You are supposed to—" A sharp, nasal voice called out. The class representative. "I'll have to take your name down otherwise."

"Shut up." He said plaintively, combing fingers through his red hair. "I am not doin' it. Ask someone else."

He sauntered out of the class, stepping into the largely empty corridors. A pair of girls were in sight, attempting to balance holding a huge trash bag between them. The main garbage arena was a long way off, around the bend of the main corridor. Mo glanced at their pretty, flushed faces as they panted with exertion. Small girls with breakable arms. He paused in his steps, considering.

"Put the bag down." He said, and they froze in their tracks.

"Uhm, we were just—" The girl who spoke to him had a trembling smile.

"Shut up an' leave." He grunted, heaving the black polythene bag over his shoulder. "Do you want me to fuck you up?"

They mumbled something under their breaths, before hastily retreating towards their classes. He adjusted his grip on the plastic, the crackling driving him nuts. After what had mostly been a calm day, it seemed strange to him that he was riled up by an insignificant thing such as this. The sky was coloured red, like someone had spilt warm blood in streaks across a warm yellow canvas, but it reflected his mood. He had to hurry back to the bus station. The afternoon buses would leave in another five minutes, and he had no intention in walking home.

When he reached the west end, climbing down the stairs leading to the main cluster of third year classes—he could hear laughs—the door of a class around the bend burst open with a crash. He almost missed a step, grasping the railing.

 _Fuck._ He grimaced. _Would've missed a teeth or two._

"Who the hell—"

"What a pleasant coincidence."

Mo stared ahead resolutely, not bothering to open his mouth as he stalked past.

"You are being rude, you know." The husky voice had an undercurrent of amusement, and he bit his tongue, nearly ripping through it. The tang of copper filled his mouth.

"Get away from me." He felt dangerous, and his blood was already boiling.

"But, you haven't even heard me out." He Tian stalked him as they blended seamlessly into the wispy shadows. "Would it hurt to get to know you better?"

If devil had an incarnate, he was convinced that He Tian was a solid example of that. He increased his pace, refusing to acknowledge the evenly spaced footsteps that casually trailed after him.

"Oh, I am sure your intentions are far from bein' pure. Why the hell are you following me, asshole?" He growled, rearing around.

"Looks like you have a bone to pick with someone." The asshole curved his lips, pitch black eyes calm and clear in a way that he absolutely despised. "An unfortunate case of events that it has to be me."

"Do have some shitty short-term kinda memory, or somethin'?" He demanded.

"Ah, but that was only because I wanted to pull your buttons. You know, tease you."

"You almost sent me to my gran' ma."

"She dead?"

"What do you think, genius?" He rolled his eyes, countenance dark as thunder as He Tian snickered.

"I think you should, you know, do me a favour." He Tian bared his teeth. "Because school's out, and you are the only one around. Trust me, you can leave after this."

The rage was red-hot, addictive and poisonous, for it poisoned his blood as rapidly as arsenic—it made his heart and teeth ache with an unnatural intensity. It wasn't plausible for a human to feel such hatred towards another human, was it? It wasn't justified. But it was, he thought, curling his fists. It was in every fathomable manner, justified.

"No." He said, after a heartbeat of hesitation.

Hurling the garbage bag into the dump, he swivelled around, almost slipping on the pavement. Regaining his balance at the last minute, he collided head on with the aforementioned devil. Before he could come to his senses, however, He Tian retained a vice-like grip on his forearm. When did the douche get such strength?

"No one said I wasn't trying to be polite. Guess guys like you need a more heads-on approach. What can I do to make it more clear to you?" He Tian smiled, grabbing his collar, and it wasn't particularly a pleasant smile. He clutched He Tian's wrists, attempting to pry them off.

"Wait, wait, you asshole." He pursed his lips tersely. "If there's money, I'll do it."

He got a faint grin in reply. "Of course. There's money involved. Honest transaction."

He flushed when a girl walked past them, bug-eyed and more than a little apprehensive.

"It's not like he's going to beat me up." He muttered under his breath, looking warily at He Tian's grip on his wrists. "You ain't gonna bash my head in like you did last time, are you?"

He Tian perked up.

"Tut, Tut." He said, faking an air of disapproval. "Are you trying to give me delectable reasons to punch you? Because, you are _kind_ of succeeding at the moment."

"Being with a moron like you obviously does." He muttered, struggling to remove He Tian's grasp from his collar. He had a feeling the asshole wouldn't stop to choke him as a last resort.

"I wasn't aware you though of me like that. You hurt me with your callous words." He Tian smirked, edging closer to him. He had this strange, sinking feeling in his gut. He Tian's breath was warm and humid on his lips, and inexplicably, his face coloured. He breathed out softly, and for a moment, it looked like there were no words that could be exchanged. He Tian's eyes were dark like a never ending chasm.

"What are you looking at?" He Tian murmured. "Should I be disgusted? Or am I just throwing your own words back at you?"

"Maybe you should let go, you ass." His voice was hoarse, and it was strange that he didn't break away from He Tian even as the guy's grip on his collar loosened considerably. He opened his mouth, wanting to trade a couple of insults. Maybe draw back a fist and land a solid blow on that smirking face. He idly wondered how blood would look on He Tian's lips. His face still hadn't lost the heat that steadily radiated from it.

There was a thin line between full blown hunger for blood and simmering hatred. He was casually tip-toeing about that demarcation, unsure of where to proceed. He Tian provided a nasty challenge.

This was a typical day. And as sad as it was, this anger, this hot, addictive rush that flowed through his veins was the only escape he had from his humdrum life.


	2. Chapter 2

Mo exhaled softly, fingers curling around the handle of an iron pan.

"Don't you have tuition today?" His mom poked her head through the doorway, arching a questioning eyebrow.

"Yeah." He replied, cranking up the heat on the skillet. The faint odour of onions in the kitchen intensified. His mom leant against the doorframe with crossed arms, silently observing him.

"Something seems to the matter." She remarked. "Spill it, already."

He glowered.

"Go sleep, ma." He stated. "Stop workin' much."

"You miss your dad." He turned to face her, and loathed what he saw. A tired woman with a withered face, eyes that drooped with lethargy and small, determined shoulders that seemed to bear the entire weight to the world.

Unconsciously, somewhere deep within his mind, his quiet fury and simmering emotions all melted away, leaving him introspective. Guilt was an emotion that teetered on the edge of an abyss.

"Don' speak of him. I don't wanna hear 'bout him." He said tersely.

"Okay, I won't. You probably should be taking up the family business." His mother smiled at him as he brushed past her, entering the hall.

"You cook a lot better than me. Do you recall the number of times you've had to save my ass because I'd over-cooked something or the other? You were such a precocious boy then. Loud too."

Her chuckles brought a slight smirk on his face.

"Someone has to be." Mo muttered. "One more word and I will be cuttin' your tongue off, lady."

"And rude too." She reminisced. "Still is, apparently. Where have I gone wrong? Hey, look at the time, you moron! Cram school!"

"Shit." He raced into the living room, picking up his bag from the table.

"Slow down—"

"See ya, ma!" He said, kicking open the door and rushing out into the yard. Clambering atop his bicycle, he looked back reflexively to see his mother waving after him.

"And fuck, your Dongpo pork is on the counter!"

"Sure." She said aloud. "The household rules are completely inverted in this house. Don't let your friends know."

Friends? Mo huffed, pushing his feet onto the pedal. What friends? 'A bunch of brain dead morons who followed him about out of desperation' would've been an apt selection of words. The climate wasn't merciful, and he was fully drenched with sweat by the time he reached the compound, which was swarming with students. Rolling his bike out over the gritty mud, he looked over at the sea of kids.

It was a mess of juniors and seniors, and everyone looked haggard. They clutched their colour coded notes and whatnot, mouthing words as they revised like maniacs for the annual _gao kao_ , the national college entrance examination. In his opinion, cram school was a pain in the ass. The sole reason he was attending was because the lectures in his highschool sucked, and if he had any chance of passing and not facing his mom's wrath, it would be this. His slung his bag over his shoulder, making way towards the entrance. Someone crashed into his back, and he swivelled around on his heels.

"Watch where you are walking." He said sharply, looking down at a small guy.

"Don't block my way, then." The kid said irritably, and it was like his brain was instinctively wired to respond with aggression. In a mere span of seconds, his hand curled around the guy's shirt collar, lifting him up.

"Listen kid." He said evenly. "You should be more responsible. Watch. Your. Step."

"S-sure."

Breathing in slowly, he walked up the stairs, towards the windows that overlooked the park behind the school. A dark, shadowy figure outlined the glass, shrouded by the darkness. It was late afternoon. He paid them no heed as he continued walking up the stairs.

"You are impulsive out of school as well, how predictable."

Mo whirled around, nearly snapping his neck with horror. He stared as the figure came out into the light, a trail of smoke following him. He Tian crushed the head of the cigar onto the wall, dropping it in a nearby bin. The asshole had a pleasant, plaintive expression on his face, and that might have fooled him into being calm if it weren't for those languid, black eyes.

"This shit creeps me out." He muttered to himself, brain going flat. "Don't talk to me, you bastard. I ain't putting up with your shit today."

He Tian raised his hands, looking as innocent as a wolf who had been gnawing on a poor sheep's bones.

"I wasn't about to do anything else."

There was _no_ way He Tian was going to make his day shittier than it was before. He clambered up the stairs, walking through the crowded corridor. Glancing back over his shoulder, a dead sort of weight materialized in his stomach when he realized that the guy wasn't following him. He Tian might be a sadistic masochist, but even that bastard wasn't idiotic enough to follow him about—even if it was to torture him.

Pissed off and more than a little confused, he realized that the corridor was becoming more and more less populated.

_Fuck these similar looking classes. I'll have to go downstairs again._

Mind preoccupied, he didn't hear the steps behind him until he saw the shadow in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he swivelled around, ready to give whatever unfortunate asshole behind him a piece of his mind.

"I am fuckin' tired of brains dead morons collid—"

The air went out of his gut, as though someone had landed a solid blow on it. He Tian stood in front of him, tilting his head.

"Don' tell me you lost your way." Mo sneered. "Or is it jus' another excuse to beat me up? Get lost."

"We happen to have the same class." The bastard had the audacity to sling an arm over his shoulder as though they were best buds. "Why don't you show me the way? It's my first day, after all."

He felt a warm breath on his ear, and it burned like a furnace. There was a single, blessed moment where his mind lost track of events and attempted to pull away, but the arm around his back held him in a tight lock. Hate fuelled him, bringing him to life. The hand pressing against his back seemed to be branding his skin.

"That's fuckin' gross." He wheezed. "What do yo—"

"Wow red, you were just standing there and looking all grossed out by me. It did hurt my feelings." He Tian admitted, running fingers through his hair and mussing it up. He gave up attempting to pry the bastard's hand off.

"Well, imma mess you up in five seconds if you don't put that goddamn hand away."

"Well then, you'll have to suck it up, and—" He Tian met his eyes. "Swallow."

He couldn't tear his eyes off the way the bastard's throat bobbed as he spoke.

"What'd ya say?" He asked, distracted. Rewinding back on the bastard's words, his features contorted in disgust.

"I like messing with innocent guys like you." He Tian continued. "I don't feel sorry."

"You want me to console you or something?" He was incredulous beyond words.

He Tian curved his lips mysteriously, leaning in.

"I was hoping for that." He whispered. His voice was rough. "You see, I like being consoled."

He couldn't stop staring at the bastard's face, Mo realized with unlimited horror. It was witchcraft. Sorcery!

"In what ways? You are so fuckin' sad."

Apparently, his brain was short circuiting.

"Several." He Tian pointed out nonchalantly, and small hairs rose over the nape of his neck. He opened his mouth to spit another vile remark. Silence permeated the air, and there was a brief, convoluted moment where they both considered each other. Predator and prey. Perhaps, there was no such distinction. He could easily land a few punches if all hell broke loose, although it gnawed at him to admit that he could just as easily have his head smashed in by this douchebag. He wasn't a moron. Even he knew his limits. Although, it was funny how there was no malevolence on the bastard's face. He might have been hallucinating, but the bastard's eyes were darkening by the moment. Inexplicably, his mouth went dry for a crazy heartbeat when those dark eyes flickered down on his lips, before going back up. A strange buzz filled his head, and it was driving him nuts.

"I gotta go." He turned his head away. "Get away from me."

There was a second where He Tian said nothing, moving away from him.

"You get angered easily." The bastard turned to face the windows. "I hate your kind the most."

"Who are you to judge, huh, asshole?" He was feeling irritable. Bitterness took over him like a wave.

"You have it easy." He continued. "Cool house. Rich parents and all that shit. Probably don't even know how it is like to balance shifts and your shitty school life. I guess you think you are such a hotshot."

He Tian didn't say anything.

"You don't realize stuff. Stuff like earning for the next meal, and working your way to the top. Pathetic losers like you are a waste to the world." He continued. The bastard spared him a neutral glance.

"How can you say that?" He Tian scoffed, not tearing his eyes from the landscape below. "You are the kind the person who makes assumptions without even knowing anything."

"You are jus' bluffing now." Mo said, irritated. "You are the lowest of the low, you asshole."

"I get your point." He Tian smiled. A warning shock raced down his spine. What did the bastard want?

"The—" He cleared his throat, and it seemed like his eyes had a mind of their own, not being able to meet the bastard's calculating eyes. "There is no way I'll tolerate your shit. Come on to me again and I'll break every bone in your body."

He Tian sauntered towards him languidly, like a lithe cat stretching itself out. He took a step backwards, his back hitting the wall. The bastard braced an arm on the wall, and he felt like he was in a deep abyss. Brain freezing instantaneously, he found himself unable to say anything.

"That's quite the bold statement to make, isn't it?" The bastard edged closer, until he was plastered onto the wall. The cold mosaic pressed against his back, and he could feel unworldly tingles on his skin.

"I can say whatever I want. Who the fuck are you?"

"Someone who oddly affects you." He Tian put his palm on his chest, and his heart sped up. "I can feel it. Need I say more?"

The sky was darkening, purple and violet mixed with hues of red. The corridor was partially ensconced in darkness, the two of them abandoned. He Tian's face was fading away as the sun slipped beyond the horizon. Classes were probably ongoing. Why was he stuck to the wall?

"I—" He turned his face away when he felt He Tian's hand on his hip. Swallowing, he stared resolutely into the darkness. "I don't know what the hell your intentions are, you bastard. I'll snap your neck if you try any of your—any funny business."

"You are confident." He Tian commented, and he felt the bastard's nose brush against his cheek in one electrifying moment. "How unnatural. I could beat up you here if I wanted. Smash your nose in, for example. A clean thing. No one would question me."

"You wish." He snorted, even as he felt He Tian's chest pressing against his. "You are crushing me against the wall, asshole—"

"Hey, who's there! Come out! I can hear voices!" A sharp voice sounded from around the bend, and he froze against He Tian's chest.

"What the fuck have you done, you bastard?" He groaned, even as He Tian laughed quietly.

"You ready?" The bastard asked, and it was unnerving that he couldn't see the expression on He Tian's face in the lack of light. "What—"

He Tian grabbed his arm, before he was suddenly jerked forward.

"Hurry up!"

"Hey, you two there, stop!"

Elated, and more than a little breathless, Mo let himself be dragged away blindly.

"Fuck off!" He shouted at the teacher following them, and He Tian's wicked laugh followed as they both raced towards their class.


	3. Chapter 3

They were in a broom closet. He had no idea how they had gotten there. Oh, yeah, they were currently on the run. A poor excuse for one, considering that they had gotten locked up in a broom closet that the asshole He Tian had hauled him into. Things were starting to heat up, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he thought about how peaceful and relatively less troublesome his day had been; at least it had been until the asshole had chosen to destroy it with his obnoxiousness.

Blood roared in his ears as He Tian looked at him, a hint of uncertainty clouding his face. It vanished the next second.

"It's your fuckin' fault. Everything is." His words were weak, and the bastard knew it as well.

"I almost feel hurt." The bastard had the gall to look innocent and troubled as he leaned in. "But I am not, if you get me."

"Find other ways to waste your time, dumbass." He was irritable, and the broom closet wasn't an ideal place for his lanky limbs. He tried to maintain a safe distance from the asshole. There was no telling what might happen.

"This is crazy." A part of him wavered when his eyes flickered down to He Tian's lips. The bastard's tongue peeked out, a bold, red flicker, before disappearing inside. He inwardly groaned as the bastard raised an audacious eyebrow, as if he were really surprised.

"Don't fuckin' ask me!" He yelled, face flaming. "I d—"

"It's okay to get frustrated, you know? Just don't want you to pop a nerve or something." He Tian remarked, pressing a warm palm against his mouth. Scrabbling to remove the bastard's hand from his mouth, he tried his best to ignore the heady smell of musk as strands of his red hair limply hung over his temple, clinging to skin damp with exertion. The bastard smelled like home. He didn't know what was worse. "Try to control yourself."

He choked. That was the last thing he could ever hope to bear.

The bastard's torso was pressed against his sweat-slicked back, and he could feel heat radiating from him. A chin was on his shoulder, a hand on his mouth and another one on his waist. He stamped his heel onto the bastard's foot, and He Tian laughed quietly, moving away like an inconspicuous snake. The sudden loss of physical heat made him feel strange, and when there was another rap on the door, he glowered at the bastard.

One day, he'd punch the daylights out of the insufferable bastard. He Tian merely gave him a devious grin.

He was about to give the asshole a piece of his mind, when he thought he heard something.

There was a sudden rattle outside the door, which brought him out of his mental parade, and for a moment, he gave up his struggle in an effort to remain still. If they were caught, they'd both be fucked. He wasn't afraid of authority as such. Gossip was one thing that all kids leeched onto like bloodsuckers. Not that he cared about his image. He couldn't give a flying fuck about that. But the idea that he was found in a small closet with the bastard was as unappealing as an old plate of chow mein. It seemed that the bastard had considered that as well, for he didn't make a sound.

For a while, there was only the sound of his harsh, trembling breaths. It was in those moments that he became hyperaware of several things. Small details. The way he was gazing at Mo openly—completely unruffled—and of how the bastard had an earthy, fresh smell that reminded him of ground cinnamon. He could smell the fruity gum He Tian had been chewing on earlier.

 _Watermelon_.

He liked that. Somehow, that made the situation all the more weird. The bastard regarded him openly, with casual eyes that didn't seem to imply anything violent. He would be lying if he said that that wasn't terrifying.

They remained like that for a while, him pressed against the cabinet and He Tian leaning against the door. A few more centimeters in, and the bastard would smirking against his lips. Face flaming, he fixed his gaze on the floor. This was all a bad nightmare, he repeated to himself. Some bad karma that some idiot had wished upon him. He nearly jumped when the bastard's hands gripped his shoulders from the back.

"Wha—" He began hotly, but warm lips closed around his ear, silencing him momentarily. At this point, he was past the line of caring. There was such a thing called personal space, and the bastard needed to recognize that-

His brain froze as He Tian's arms banded around his waist, swinging him around to face the door. The door knob rattled mercilessly, as though someone were trying to force it open. He didn't think about the potentially disastrous repercussions if the door was forced open. All he could think about were the warm hands around his stomach, and He Tian's damp hair tickling his jaw. Intoxication conquered him in one drowning wave.

When the door creaked with an ancient yawn, signalling that the person on the other side had managed to pry it open by a fraction, he came back to his senses and tensed. He was prepared to kick the unfortunate soul into oblivion.

"The bolt is rusted, sir!"

"Get it open, then. We aren't paying you janitors free money, you hear me?" A sharp voice, which he recognized as belonging to the head teacher of the place. He swallowed. They were officially fucked.

"Yeah, yeah. I am opening it now." The janitor's nasal voice cut through his rapidly panicking mind.

He turned his head, his lips dragging over the bastard's ear. His heart was hammering relentlessly. The bastard merely smirked in the faint light coming from the window. There was a noisy creak behind him.

"What are you doin'?" He whispered lowly, the gaggle of voices arguing outside nearly drowning out his voice.

"Making our life easier, of course." Was the only thing the bastard said, before he was dragged into a cold, congested space. He Tian's elbow dug into his stomach, and he swore softly. There was another sound, before the cabinet door was swung shut, cutting off the voices almost instantaneously. His legs brushed against some empty paint cans, almost toppling them over.

"We wait." The voices seemed so far away now.

There was a loud, tremendous creak as the rickety door was busted open, and through the small crack between the twin doors of the cabinet, torch light streamed in. He held his breath, He Tian's arm a warm length pressed against his own.

"Nothing in here." The head teacher sounded puzzled. "I could've sworn that some infernal kids were making a ruckus in there—"

"I have to go clean the staff-room." The janitor interjected, sounding cross.

"Yes." He could hear the head teacher coughing apologetically as the door was swung shut, and the torch light went out, shrouding both him and the bastard in the darkness. He couldn't make out the rest of the voices, but it was evident that they wouldn't be spotted any time soon. He let out an involuntary curse.

"Damn." He mopped his brow. "That was legendary."

"I _know_." The bastard sounded smug, and oddly mischievous. Exhilaration filled his chest.

"Are you fucking kiddin' me?" He asked incredulously. "That was some quick thinkin', for a moron."

He couldn't read the bastard's expression in the pitch black darkness, but there was a low, contented hum. For once, rage didn't consume him like a volatile miasma. He awkwardly brushed back his sweat-matted hair, wanting to break the silence with a punch line.

"We have to get out." He said roughly. "Can't risk—"

One moment, he was languidly leaning against the door. In the next, hands grappled his hips and twisted him around by pure force, crushing him against the back wall of the cabinet. He was pushed up against the wall with a stunning urgency, and his knees buckled. He Tian didn't say anything, and while it was fucking unfair that he could read any of the bastard's expression, he could only imagine the silken feel of the bastard's mouth around his ear. Dexterous, nimble fingers curled around his neck, and his instinctual need was to lean in.

Pissed off, he did, and there was a still, shocking pause that screamed for him to stop. It was now or never, and it echoed in his head. Now or never. The bastard's scent was overwhelming, and there were so many confusing little factors.

His thoughts were scrambling even as warm lips parted over his own, pressing against his like dewdrops. Synapses on fire, every nerve ending on his body seemed to be hyperalert. The bastard reared back, and he couldn't help but follow like a blind idiot.

"You want more? Haha." The bastard's voice had cracked. Fucking moron. Even his laugh was unsteady. Who was he fooling, putting up a delusional front like that?

"F-fuck." Was the only thing he said in reply, and the bastard's lips closed around his yet again, and all trail of thought dissolved into nothingness.

Apparently, his brain had been fucked thoroughly.

This time, it was rough, insistent, and he shut his eyes tightly. A warm, hot flush raced up his skin with dizzying intensity, as the bastard kissed him again. And again. He didn't stop, even when the bell rang. Both of them had lost all sense of time. When the bastard forced a probing, hot tongue in, his elbow jerked back reflexively, and in the red haze of his mind, he heard the metal can rolling about noisily on the cabinet platform, having been knocked over.

"We n-need to—" He held the bastard at bay with his hands, pressing his palms against a solid chest, panting. "—need to go. Fuckin' stop."

"I never thought you were capable of second thoughts." The tone of He Tian's voice was unruffled. Casual. It drove him crazy.

"Find someone else to experiment on, fuck." He snapped, kicking the cabinet door open. The broom closet wasn't locked anymore, having been opened on the instruction of the Dean. What the fuck was he doing with the bastard? With a pained expression, he looked over his shoulder, to meet the bastard's eyes. He Tian was looking straight at him with a smug, self-satisfied expression that reminded him of a sly Cheshire cat.

"What?" He barked out, face scalding rapidly.

"Nothing." The bastard shrugged, hands in his his pockets as he brushed past him, walking out of the closet. "See you around, red."

With that, the bastard left, without as much as sparing him a second glance. His knees buckled, and he slumped down against a wall. What the fuck had just happened?


	4. Chapter 4

He didn't bother looking up as a shadow of a head obscured the ground below his gaze. He was currently on the school roof, procrastinating. Contemplation had hit him hard. A chocolate stick swayed from side to side in his mouth, and he closed his eyes, gnawing on the sweetness.

He heard a dull thud as He Tian leapt over the railings, landing neatly before him. It was like he'd set claim to a territory of something, and that made him fume.

"What are you doing here?" When he opened his eyes, the bastard had an arched eyebrow that pissed him off. Even his hips had an arrogant sway to them. He switched his gaze to the whitewashed concrete of the wall behind the insufferable moron, expression grim.

"Believe it or not," He said finally. "I am willing to let you go without fucking you over this time."

"Oh, so now your mood's pretty good?" He Tian had an infuriating smirk that he wished to wipe off with his blunt knuckles. "How disappointing. I expected more from you."

"Fuck off. Don' you have anything better to do? You are nothin' but a creep."

"Ouch. And you need to take a lesson in courtesy." He Tian told him cheerfully.

Why couldn't he ever experience peace and quiet? It seemed like everywhere he turned, he could only meet up with confrontational morons like the one standing before him. His fever wasn't helping one bit. Rummaging in his pockets for aspirin, he inwardly groaned when he found none. To top his pathetic day, a good portion of his pocky broke off when the bastard landed beside him on his ass; he was knocked down by He Tian's heavy hand on his back in the process. He choked, tears of pain springing to his eyes.

"You look a little rusty."

"Do you wanna be fucked over twice?"

"You know, red, you remind me of those annoying television ads. Never delivering up on your promises. I'll consider the offer, if it's the other way around."

Great. The last thing he had to find out was that the guy was a shitty masochist. He rubbed his temple, a wave of dizziness conquering him for a moment.

"Listen." He told him tiredly. "If you wanna pick a fight-"

"Haha, what's with your negativity this morning?"

There was a quiet sort of shuffle, and he buried his fever flushed face between his knees, the cool fabric a balm for heated skin. He didn't wish to return back to the classes after bell. There was a brief moment where he thought he could simply jump off the roof and play cards in heaven like his grandma.

"You look like you are beating yourself up hard." He Tian told him.

"An' what's it to you if I look like the fuckin' devil?" He asked, irked.

"Just my honest input, red. One day, that pretty mouth on you is going to get you in trouble." He Tian murmured, turning his face to his. He met those eyes steadily, catching the amused light creeping into them.

"My mouth is perfectly fine, asshole." He bit out.

"Oh, you have no idea." The words sounded strange, screaming raw honesty, all the more highlighting the absurdity of the situation. He broke the eye contact, frowning when the bastard laughed.

"You have the nerve to laugh at me—"

"That was an innuendo, young grasshopper." He Tian interjected.

"Get out of here, shithead."

"You really need to increase your vocab, red."

"Fuck off."

"That's a no, then, haha. Don't look so offended. Better watch your pretty mouth."

"You are blockin' the way." He said curtly. "Thanks for gifting me your fuckin' presence, douchebag. Now move it."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, you know." He Tian removed his head, revealing the sky in his line of sight, and he didn't bother to face him as the bastard sat down beside him.

"What do you want?" Lethargic, and feeling weak, he asked. He was sick. Had been for an entire week.

"I happened to miss your obedient, polite version." He could hear the foxy grin in the bastard's voice. "How can I bring you back?"

"That me never fuckin' existed. Now get lost or I'll teach you a lesson." The words that were chewed out lacked venom, and the worst part was knowing it through the faint, feverish heat of his mind. He soldiered on, even as his throat got clogged, and his eyes drooped. It had been a trying week, attempting to manage two part time jobs at once. His old lady had attempted to make him slow down, but he couldn't do that. He had to pay off the pending mortgage on their house, and the bail money for his dad—

When he turned his head to view the bastard, He Tian was looking right at him. It was a mechanical reaction, the way all thought in his head ceased to be when he saw that perfectly poised smirk on those wind-chapped lips, and the soft strands of inky black hair that were being tossed about in the wind. But the one thing that stood out the most were those eyes that regarded him with a silent intensity. Pitch black, swallowing everything in its vicinity. Even Mo's focus. He broke the gaze, averting his eyes.

"You don't seem to be in your usual spirits today." He Tian commented.

"It gets worse when you are around, bastard."

"I am touched." As much as he loathed admitting it, some of the heaviness lodged in his chest receded.

He got up, feeling a lot like his early afternoon rendezvous with the school roof had been cut short, and a damn sight unfairly at that. He had just made it down the stairs when a hand clasped his shoulder, making him curse. He spun around, dumping the contents of the bottle his hand on the offender impulsively.

"The heck?"

He Tian was utterly soaked. Laughing hysterically, he bowled over. The asshole's eyes impulsively darkened with malice.

"Let's both wait for my shirt to dry, shall we?"

His face paled.

" _Fuck no._ "

* * *

He was dragged off behind the stairs. Wonderful. Should have known karma was a bitch.


	5. Chapter 5

He Tian didn't say anything. Sometimes he wondered whether the bastard had lost all sense of reality, floating in a state of limbo that no one else cared to know about. His cargo pants were barely riding below his hips, and the sharp angles of his hips were jutting out. There was a whisper of fabric over fabric, before the rest of the cotton shirt was tugged up, drenched with water. He curled his fingers, turning his face away. It was almost impossible to navigate in the pitch black darkness, but he didn't care. He could feel that piercing gaze boring into the back of his head, ripping through his synapses and firing every damn sense of his body. His throat felt constricted, and he felt increasingly dizzy.

"Don't want to leave just yet?" The douche's question was dry; it almost seemed like his only last time was to torture the living juice out of him. He made a profane gesture with his hand, before jamming it into his pocket.

"I don't want to go back to class, shithead."

"You aren't leaving." He heard a slight shuffle, and the imperceptible smell of musk, and realized with a growing sensation of disorientation that the bastard was approaching him from the back. He swallowed lowly, rivulets of sweat trickling down the veins of his neck as he pressed his heated forehead against the cool wall. He could feel the whisper of a breath on his nape, and restrained the urge to smash his spine into the bastard's gut, to flit away like a flummoxed, helpless fly.

"I can't." He gritted out. "You are fuckin' keeping me here."

"I get it." He could feel the hard planes of He Tian's chest as it pressed up against his sweat drenched cloth, and his eyes opened with a sudden jolt. It felt like someone had forcibly ripped into him with a rusted dagger when casual, callous hands floated over his abdomen, which was somersaulting a mile a minute. He caught the strong wrist, merely seconds away from twisting it and tearing through the skin, and splicing the hard bone. He desired, almost thirsted for the bastard's expression when he realized that the tables had been turned.

"Ouch." There was a curse whispered near his ear, a wet mouth barely tracing the shell of his flamed ears. "That hurts, haha."


	6. Chapter 6

"You are a moron." He commented, twisting his grip on that wrist even more. The bastard didn't even give him a moment to breathe, swinging him around and pushing him against the walls. For a moment, it felt like his body had lost track of gravity.

"That was a mistake." This was probably the first time in days since he had confronted the bastard. It had seemed not too long ago since those feline eyes had him pinned like an unwilling participant onto a dartboard. Thirst claimed him like a wave. That face was now mere inches away from his. The silence that tersely stretched out between them held so many fucking unanswered questions. Mood utterly ruined, he kneed the bastard between his legs, hearing a satiating crunch as the asshole went careening several stunned steps backwards, like a betrayed idiot. Panting, he refused with all his might to acknowledge his weakly fluttering heart. He had no sense of self-preservation, apparently.

"You a surprising little shit, aren't you?" He Tian said, expression wicked and his voice a bit out of breath when he stood up.

"Get the fuck out of my way." Ignoring the bastard, he attempted to move towards the door of the stairwell. Before he could open it, powerful, lean limbs banded around his waist, and he choked for air as one of those hands twined around his neck, cutting off his breath.

"You fascinate me." He Tian admitted. So this was retaliation.

"Fuck!" He took shallow breaths when the bastard dropped him, and his throat felt as though it had been permanently branded with hot iron. The retaliation was too pathetic. What was the bastard's game? He refused to accept this—this hoity toity bullshit.

When a dry thumb ran over his chapped lips, he could only stare into the bastard's face.

"Just what do you want from me, asshole?" His voice was hoarse when the bastard's gaze flickered to his lips, as abruptly as lightening.

"How about a decent fuck? I need to blow off some steam."

"Go and torture someone _else!_ "

"Why, isn't my proposition good enough?"

The douchebag. The absolute fucking douche! Why was his fucking body betraying him? As if the bastard didn't have a harem of girls hanging around him like insane flies and eating out of his hand. His resolve strengthened into something powerful. Eyes narrowing, he looked at the asshole, who considered him intensely.

A crazy, manic part of him sprang into action. If you asked him about the trigger, he couldn't answer. He'd be unable to answer with his current state. He head-butted the bastard, shoving him backwards. Mind hysterical beyond measure, he thought of how cabinets and dark places and walls and hard counters seemed to inspire his insanity, before saying one resonating 'fuck it all' and diving in for the kill. His mouth closed over like a dying fish over He Tian's parted, soft mouth, and he cringed. His nose bumped against the asshole's cheek, and there was a quiet, surprised laugh, albeit muffled by his lips.

"You suck at this."

There was a brief, tangible moment when he separated from the bastard, simply staring at him incredulously. He got an arched eyebrow in return.

"Irony, darling."

He smashed his lips against the bastard's, half in a bid to shut the idiot up, and also to revaluate his mental choices. The revaluation soon turned into a wild, malicious whirl of lust and anger, a powerful combination that clouded his mind as hands fisted his hips, a warm tongue sneaking into his mouth languidly. The bastard grinned against his lips, and in a frenzied state of mind, he was desperate to learn what was hilarious about the situation.

Considering that he was rutting like a starved... _creature_ who was his supposed enemy, everything.

There was nothing more to be said, and all rational thoughts ebbed away in one enormous wreck as a lean, slender thigh was forced between his. A curse melted away into a moan that was soon muffled by lips. It almost took him by surprise, but before he could contemplate more about it, the bastard's bit on his bottom lip hard, eliciting a curse from him.

In a half drunk haze of sense and irrationality, he shoved the bastard away. Silence was a constant companion for a few seconds, where they assessed each other with wary eyes, their pants hard and fast as though they had ran a marathon. He brushed back his red hair, unable to meet the bastard's eyes. He Tian took a tentative step forward, and his shoulders tensed. He turned around and ran, ran like there was a pack of hounds chasing after him, and didn't look back.

The kisses had been wet, and the damn thought looped about in his mind, continuously playing like like a funeral lyre on repeat, and it was like an ominous prelude to even worse things. He dragged the hem of his shirt against his bruised lips, attempting to wipe it clean until they were sore and raw, and pained and used. Sweat dribbled down his jaw, and his eyebrows were pinched; tensed. He had to get away, and think. His mind was a chaotic, disorganized mess.

A couple of chicks rolled past him, giggling like they had hit an all time high, their soft bodies a balm for his aching mind. He glanced at their soft, appealing curves, and the shorts outlining their pale, milk white thighs, before gritting his teeth with a malice that made it ache. What was wrong with him? He latched onto the remnants of his sanity, even as they chipped away bit by bit.

This couldn't go any further. He wasn't a moron. The bastard was messing around with him, and it probably didn't mean much to the asshole. But his reactions—

He shuddered, recalling the way damp hair had tickled his chin, and rough, calloused hands the same as his, only bolder, had crept across his abdomen. He resolutely strode ahead, hands clenching into fists. There was no way there would be a repeat of this incident the next time they met. When that happened, he would be sure to return the favor. He scowled as anticipation built like a devil's chasm within him, snatching all conscious thought. He refused to acknowledge any blasphemous attraction.

Apparently, He Tian moaned like a cat. He'd later toss and turn about in the weekend, jerking off to that bastard's memory alone. Fucking _great._


	7. Chapter 7

The birds were fucking loud. He scratched his chin roughly, tossing his covers away with a soundless groan. Who needed an alarm when he could rely on the nutty critters to do their job?

"Aren't you still out of bed yet?" His mom's voice floated like an unwelcome siren, floating through the curtains. His red hair was tangled and missed up like a hornet's nest, and he vainly tried to part through a few entwined strands, to no avail. Just what had he been doing the night before? Rubbing his palms over his sore calves, he tried to ignore the stuffiness of the bed and think. Sleep had danced away from him as abruptly as his tolerance for mornings.

When the memory rush hit headfirst, he felt like crawling back into the softest corner of his bed and making himself a tent from which he would never bother to retreat. The day before might as well hadn't existed in his book. He buried his burning face into the covers, thoughts spiralling deeper and deeper as they turned into a clusterfuck of emotions.

He had passed out after he had jerked off to the bastard.

"Get out of that bed, kid!" His mom's voice was significantly more louder now, and if he didn't know any better, it was almost like the lady wanted him to split his head into two.

"Yeah, pipe down, old hag." He called out weakly, before burying his face into his hands. Nothing could make his forthcoming days any better than it was now. Why was he agonizing over a ridiculous cat and mouse game invented by that sly bastard He Tian? He couldn't deny that he found satisfaction in the thought that he had managed to headbutt the bastard. There was also the way he had jammed his knee near the moron's crotch, but that was a disappointing miss that he'd rather not pause to consider.

"Get up already! It is such a beautiful day and you should be ashamed to miss even a fraction of it—"

"Beautiful day my _as_ s, ma. It's a Monday, for fuck's sake."

"That's _it,_ you slacker! Off to the yard with you. Go clean up that potty mouth while you are it. Honestly, other kids are up all night studying and voluntarily hurrying off to cram school while _my_ lazy ass son has nothing better to do than jerking off—"

" _Ma!_ "

His mother stropped at his scandalized tone, before laughing.

"I am saying the truth, after all. Only my son is horny 24/7."

Grumbling, he clambered off of his bed, scratching his belly. Sometimes, his mother had no filter to segregate between her practical and ridiculous statements. Perhaps being with his delinquent dad had made her this way. It was a subduing thought, but when was his old man ever a harbinger of happiness to the family?

 _When he was off drinking booze till he was sick and wrung dry_ , he thought dryly. Every day seemed to be in shambles. He scratched his bony hips, wriggling his toes absently in an effort to regain blood to his extremities.

The radio blared like an offended siren through the doors of the kitchen, and he winced as the shrill sound made his teeth ache at its awful intensity. And the worst part was having rice paper thin walls as a meagre cover from the old fashioned music. Maybe the first thing he'd do after receiving a decent job was to find his old parent a neat shack to hole up in.

* * *

The classrooms were untidy, but it wasn't like the school authorities had ran out of fucks to give when the district officer had run by with an order to neaten up the place. Because of the notable absence of staff, the senior kids were stuck with the humdrum task of renovation as the local warden watched on with an evil eye. The bucket of paint in his hand was a welcoming weight, even as he watched on in disdain as the class representative did a poor job of the wall, dripping blue paint all over the already ruined concrete tiles.

"Watch where you are swinging that brush, dipshit." His advice wasn't taken to heart; the ladder on which the bespectacled representative sat on gave a sudden heart-stopping lurch, before it decided to come down on the people below.

When heartfelt screeches pierced his ears through the gateway of Buddha himself, he grabbed a fistful of his red hair and decided that he'd had enough of incompetent fools. In the heat of his irritation, an unfortunate girl brushed past him, knocking her bare knees against his. He whipped around, a scornful glare ready on his face.

"Hey, hey. There's no need to be rude."

The girl's mouth opened at the interruption, and he could see the way how her cheeks pinkened this close. Despair uncoiled in the pit of his stomach, mixed with agitation, and a feeling he would die a thousand deaths before he would admit—anticipation.

"H-He Tian classmate."

"Hello there, beautiful." He Tian pressed his chest against his back, peering over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, gnashing his teeth together. The day hadn't even begun when the asshole had diligently decided to ruin it.

"Take your loving fan and fuck off. Fuckin' lovebirds goin' at it in the morning." He sneered, and the girl flushed in embarrassment and humiliation. It calmed him down, oddly. There were a definite set of rules. He was the bad guy, and people spoke ill of him and tended to avoid him as they did. It was wholly natural. There was no reason why he had to change that. He bared his teeth at the girl, and her shoulders quivered in timid fright.

He wasn't a pack animal; unsociable in many ways, he considered himself a loner. There was no reason why he was supposed to get along with others, smiling fake smiles and hiding his pain all day long.

"What did she ever do to you, huh?" He Tian enquired, smiling surreptitiously, before wrapping his fingers like a tight adhesive around the skin of his wrist. A jolt of something like electricity raced up his blood stream, and he snatched his hand back, glowering over his shoulders. He Tian gave him an indiscernible look, but the expression in his dark gaze sent a shock of sheer _want_ down his spine. In a second, whatever it was in those eyes ceased to be.

Memories from the day before rushed to the forefront of his mind, and he resisted the urge to pummel the moron standing behind him until he was senseless. Nothing could be more satiating than hearing the crack of bones, he told himself. The girl shielded her eyes from He Tian, whispering her apologies and making her way past them in haste succession. Gravity was clearly working against him, but he forced himself to put his head down and walk away. Away from this cursed attraction.

The classroom they were in was filled, a major proportion of students working to fix the unpeeling sections of the drab ceiling, some working on the paint rollers on the concrete floor. The others were pushing the desks and benches out of the way. One could easily lose themselves in this sea of students, if they wanted to. And he did, he did want to get away from the bastard and his face. Such unnatural loathing was probably unhealthy for his psyche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your feedback is valuable.


	8. Chapter 8

The day had started off pretty good. But things had begun to go wrong somewhere out of the bend. Mo had been hanging out with a couple of his bunch near the netted fence separating the park from the school; they'd be fucked by the teachers if they were caught, but they had been doing this for too long to ditch this place. He wasn't feeling particularly chatty today, not with his mood. After the painting was done for the afternoon, they were supposed to pack up and go home. That was where things had taken a turn for the worse. He didn't know whether it was plain bad luck or anything otherwise.

"Are you still thinking about that idiot, Lay Yin?" Chen Fang asked him with narrowed eyes. "We'd be beating the fucker up tomorrow—what's with the big face?"

"Shut up." He bit out. "The asshole is planning something for sure."

Rival gangs were not uncommon. But when they confronted each other—which was not rare either—things blew up. It tended to create an ugly scene, one he was not interested in dealing with.

"Don't go out alone. Stay in groups." Mo said, looking at the bunch. He wasn't close to them, but they hung around all the same. They gazed back at him warily, observant of him like hawks, before nodding their agreement.

"We'll beat that shit Lay Yin real good the next time he comes to mess with us." Nianzu laughed boisterously, letting out a belligerent burp. A couple of empty soda cans were left unattended on the grass beside him.

"Pick them up, you idiot." Fang groaned. "We don't want evidence here; not where those old fags can catch us."

"I will, I will..."

The rest of the conversation faded to a neutral echo in the back of his head as he thought about Lay Yin. A kid from another highschool with an ego the size of an elephant's balls was what Mo had thought of him. He felt pissed off just thinking about it. He had no intentions of sparking any conflict between their gangs, and yet the toad-sized nitwit had challenged him. Mo didn't have time for any of these pitiful games.

"Stay together." He repeated, guzzling down another bottle of soda. "Don' let that fucker beat you up."

They dispersed.

* * *

The humidity of the air had seemed to lower the spirits of those who were present in their neighborhood. The sickly appearance of the group of girls clustered around the basketball net on the sandy field, or the elderly woman who was mopping her pinched brow by the vegetable stand every now and then was proof of how the temperature was wildly fluctuating in Hangzhou, not giving consideration to the health of its inhabitants in the slightest. It happened every now and then.

Mo lowered his eyes, shouldering the strap of his bag carefully as he sauntered through the dusty pavements of Zhongshan road, sidestepping ditches and newly dug potholes meant for the installation of water pipes and circlets—a precaution against the sudden flux in temperature. One or two of his former neighbours had already lost themselves to the heat stroke.

An occasional cycle rolled past under the birch trees outlining the road and the blinded shops, but that was the only disturbance in the street, which was as silent as a grave. He preferred days like this, when everyone had escaped to the suburb or the heart of Hangzhou to escape the harsh weather by partying over there. It was all good for him - he didn't get bitter over the thought, for it was in these kind of days that the customers at his workplace rarely visited. The heartening thought that he didn't have to extend his shift lifted his spirits a little, and he closed his eyes, a faint, hot breeze tossing the dusty stands of his red hair.

He didn't get to experience peace and quiet much, but when he did, he almost always introspected. Maybe that was troublesome, he reflected. Especially in cases where he thought of all that troubled him, which brought a familiar, confident set of eyes to his mind. It was a physical trigger for him, for his breaths accelerated imperceptibly and his the nails of his fingers dug deep into the soft skin of his palms; that was all there was, really. Just a physical reaction to his sworn enemy. Perhaps it was dramatic—even silly—but he was a teenager, and teenagers were allowed to do that, weren't they?

Stuff like obsessing over pointless bastards, who reminded him of cows in a ranch who never really backed down unless they were given a proper tending to.

The image of that bastard He Tian being compared to a whiny cow made him snort. It sure did fit him. Hell had a special place for bastards like him, Mo was sure. He took a right turn around the grocer's, counting the blocks he crossed mentally until he reached the front gate of his dilapidated house. In hindsight, the eerie silence was an indicator that things were wrong. Opening the door with his spare key, Mo stepped into the house. There was absolute silence. Maybe his mother had left for work early—

No, but the kitchen curtains were billowing in the wind. His mother never left the windows open. He could smell something burning—

Anxiety poisoned his mind, forcing him to think irrationally. The gas stove was on, and there was a piece of dehydrated, charred bread on the frying pan. He switched it off, not even bothering to fling his bag down before rushing into the bedroom. His heart gave a sudden lurch, and he froze.

On the ground by the bedside table was his mom, with glassy eyes looking straight at him. Her mouth was frothing in a tell-tale manner, and his heart skipped a beat.

He dialed for help.  
  



	9. Chapter 9

  
"I am sorry sir, but we need an experienced surgeon. Her chest is already in a critical condition as the CT clearly suggests. To drain the fluid out and cleanse all the remnants, we need someone experienced in that regard. Pulmonary embolisms need to be treated by someone specialized..."

Mo felt numb.

"I don't understand." He said, ignoring the sympathetic glances of the nurses that flitted in and out of the room. "She was doin' just fuckin' fine."

"These ailments are unpredictable, son." She replied heavily, sparing him a considerate look. "There are no doctors experienced enough in our small town to deal with a complex matter like this, sad as I am to admit. We need someone from Guo Lin, where the general hospital is renowned for their excellent surgeons. It will be expensive, yes, but the expenditure will be more than worth it. We can only issue a plea for money, but we can't do any more."

Her eyes softened. "I am sorry. I was only stating the facts—"

"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."

He felt sick, seeing that expression on the face. The expression that told him that he was better off putting his mother off the lifeline without going through any trouble. It reminded him of the time his mother had taken him to visit his ailing grandmother, who had been fighting a vicious battle against cancer. He had seen it on his uncle's face as he had approached her bed. It rattled him, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that he could do to raise money in a short span of time; there was no bloody way he'd be able to raise a few thousand yuan in a month.

Mo had done a bit of reading on pulmonary embolisms. It explained the chest pain and the shortness of breath his mother had been having off and on. The cold splash of reality had shaken him, nonetheless.

Paralysis overcame him, and his vision clouded over as shock hit him headfirst. Mo leaned against the newly whitewashed wall, feeling isolated from the families that walked past him, holding newborns with delighted looks on their faces. These happy, whole families with kids and equally happy parents—they were an unrealized reality for him. He didn't know how it was like to grow into adolescence under the guidance of a strong, wise father. To think that his mother was going to end up dead was too much for him.

A nurse poked her head out.

"She is calling you. Please let it be brief, sir."

He walked into the room. She was lying on a bed there, smiling softly up at him as he drew close and leaned over her.

"I don't understand why you didn't take the medications, ma."

Mo was more than a little pissed. Arriving home to find your mother lying by the bed without making even the tiniest sound tended to do that, he thought. His mother cupped his face with one calloused hand, which was pale and weak against the stark contrast of her green hospital garb. He leaned into the touch, willing his heart to calm down. His mother was all he had, really. There was no life after her. He hadn't even bothered to change his goddamn uniform. The hospital room smelled of misery, and his bag was tossed somewhere to the side by an unsuspecting nurse.

He wasn't really the sort of guy who'd pray, but he came to know what a prayer really was when he was in the waiting room, even as his mother was being stabilized in the emergency room. Now, the same woman who had stood by him all these years was smiling at him, albeit weakly. Her eyes were crinkled at the corners. When he took note of the numerous wrinkles that seemed to outline that smile, his heart had almost collapsed. Was she that frail and weak that she could scarcely stand by herself?

"You worry too much, Mo Guan Shan." Her tone was one of reproach and good humour, but it didn't fool him in the slightest. When the door creaked open, he shot a piercing glare over his shoulder. The nurse stood by the doorway, unimpressed with his haggard appearance.

"Visitors, relatives or otherwise, are forbidden to meet patients after five."

"Stop it, son." His mother smoothened the collars of his shirt, and her lovely chestnut hair pooled artfully over the pillows as she leaned back onto the bed. Calming down, he looked at her.

"Ma, why didn't you take the medication—"

"Don't worry about it." His mom interjected. He wasn't fooled.

"Don't lie to me." He spoke quietly. "You ran out of medicines, didn't you? You didn't want to tell me about it either—"

"Son—"

"Damn it, ma!" He stood up jerkily, snatching his arm from hers. "You are not going to pull that kind of shit again! Do you know how fuckin' worried I was? If you need anything, jus'—jus' _tell_ me, alright? Don' worry about the damn money."

Pissed off at himself for being careless, and even more angry at his mother for being the selfless woman she was, Mo stormed out the room, nearly colliding with the nurse that stood in the doorway like some kind of a bodyguard. He could feel his mother's eyes sadly trailing after him as he rushed out. And he rushed out, because in moments like these, it was the only thing he could do. Climbing down the wet hospital steps, he flung his bag onto the mostly abandoned road, watching as the zipper tore open under the sheer force of his manhandling and the books in it fly out.

Hot, angry tears sprang out on impulse. This—this wasn't crying. He refused to call it that. If he had to give this suffocating emotion a name, guilt wouldn't suffice. This was more of a complicated mix of emotions that threatened to drown him. He felt like curling by the nearest shade, curling into a tight ball. At the moment, he wasn't ready to face the world. Mo didn't give a damn about his job, or his school.

He would have to extend his shifts or something. There was no bloody way he could raise up the sort of money she need in a month. There—there simply _had_ to be another way.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, he returned to school like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and it hadn't. No one pestered him about the dark circles around his eyes—a tired, momentary glare was enough to shut down all the pointless interrogation. They painted for a few hours after class, and by the end of it, his tendons and musculature were screaming with pain.

By midday, the west end classrooms were freshly painted and the gaggle of students had surreptitiously ceased to be. Several were returning paint cans and equipment back to the storage rooms, chattering like an idle bunch the whole time. An instructor came out onto the field, sweating like a pig as he gesticulated for the students to leave. They were closing the gate soon.

"Alright, you lot, pack up and don't bother loitering around."

He breathed slowly, attempting to balance the weight of two pails of overflowing paint cans by himself. It was a long way back to the storage; the only shortcut that could be taken was through the ground, under the scorching sun. Sweat beaded down his forehead, trickling down like nobody's business. Someone fell into step beside him, feet crunching on grass, and he didn't bother turning around to know who it was. As it was, trouble ultimately found him in the end. Perhaps He Tian incessantly annoying him was going to be a daily routine, one which he was going to get tired of fast.

"Are you that jobless?" He challenged, kicking a stray can that was in his path. It rolled away with a resonant clang that caused heads to turn.

"Hey, hey, if I wanted a bitch, I'd have bought a dog." He could feel He Tian's gaze boring into the side of his head. "You look like you could use a little help."

"I am not your fuckin' bitch, so you should get lost."

"Someone's touchy today." He Tian laughed, grabbing the nape of his neck. The motion startled him, and he wanted to dump both the cans onto the bastard's feet. Maybe that would teach him not to fuck around with him. "You look like shit. Anything special?"

He felt queasy. He'd been trying to forget all about the agonizing evening in class, trying to remove those glazed eyes from his memory by allowing the history teacher's drone to wash over the white noise in his head—it was slowly driving him to insanity, a feat he'd never thought could be accomplished. He looked at the bastard with hatred. And now this asshole had to bring it up. He Tian smiled back at him, hand still on the nape of his neck.

"Do you want me to break you wrist?" He asked.

"I have been letting you off too easily now. Did you forget that I was the one supposed to be ordering you around?"

Oh yeah. He truly had forgotten. Sneering disparagingly, he jerked away from the bastard's touch, nearly spilling paint all over his white track pants in the process. He wanted to give him the finger, but in his current state, it couldn't practically be done. He chose to convey his displeasure with an irate look instead. Where most idiots would cower under his gaze, the bastard didn't back down. He didn't glare back, but the intense, strange stare came back. He felt a strange prickling on his skin consume him slowly life wildfire. His bravado was gone, just like that. All he found himself feeling was discontentment, and a vague yearning.

"Why do you do that?" He asked, clenching his fists around the handle of the paint bucket. It wasn't even that heavy.

"Do what?" The ball was thrown back into his court.

"Look at me _weird_ , fucktard. Are you repressed or somethin'?"

"Are you trying to control what I do? Maybe I like looking at you." The infamous smirk was back. "You have _no_ idea how fucking _fun_ it is, just to see that face of yours when you are all riled up."

How girls fell like flies for this moron, he'd never understand. It would be among the unconquered mysteries of the universe. It was at that moment that He Tian chose to tilt his head to the side, bangs falling attractively to the side as his cheekbones became more pronounced in the light. He felt a surge of irritation at the picture painted in front of him, before breaking the smouldering gaze He Tian had trained on him.

"Whatever shithead you are thinking of when you are lookin' at me, don't let me near them." He said finally, walking past the bastard. A hand clamped around his wrist, jostling him. Fury simmering like a slow, dangerous burn under his skin, he collided with a chest, paint cans rolling on the ground, spilling aquamarine blue all over the verdant grass.

Onyx, decadent eyes met his, fiery and silent. He gazed right back.

"Let go of me." He ordered. Those pitch black eyes roamed all over his face, greedily drinking up every feature. They flickered down to his lips for a moment, before floating back up to his eyes.

"Your lips," He Tian murmured. "Has anyone told you how red they are up this close? Like a girl's."

"I'm more man than you'll ever be, bastard!" He gritted out, offended. "And your eyes remind me of a chick in heat. I feel like screwin' you 'till you have trouble breathin'."

He hadn't realized the obvious, glaring, _foolish_ mistake he had made, until he was too late. They were already on a roll, and He Tian's eyes had dilated in interest. He found himself being pushed back, back and back and there was no stopping. Even as his eyes hooded surreptitiously in the heat, he allowed himself to be pushed back in a bizarre fit of insanity. A few words had charged the atmosphere between him.

When he wound his hands in He Tian's collar, the asshole's face showed surprise. It was a good look on him, he thought vengefully, before smashing his forehead against the shithead's. With the sheer force of the hit, both of them were sent reeling back from each other, He Tian clutching his forehead and laughing, before he was yanked into dangerous territory again. It felt a lot like cleansing away all the pointless angst swirling away like a kaleidoscope of colours in his head.

"Don't misunderstand." He panted against the smirking lips. "If you do, I'll cut you up into a million fuckin' pieces and feed them to the crows."

"Empty threats." He Tian reproached, drawing him closer, under the shade of the tree. "Don't worry about your manliness—I'll take it by the time you are done with me."

After that, all words ceased to be. He searched for them, but couldn't find any, not when they were standing too close. The heat plastered their drenched shirts to skin, and made it brutal. Every sensation that tore into his body silently was magnified, and he simply assessed the bastard with neutral eyes. His mind was scrambling for reason, logic, anything to get past the damned indifference his body was having to his rebelling thought that he should be getting away. He Tian returned as sly look, widening his smirk.

"Are you trying to intimidate me, red? How nice." There was a slow drawl in the bastard's voice that he absolutely hated.

"If I wanted to intimidate you, sonofabitch, I'd have done that a long time ago."

"Funny." He Tian let him go all of a sudden, pulling back with a casual clear of his throat. "I'd like to see how you'd bite me. You aren't forgetting anything, are you?"

"Stop playin' around, you bastard." He grappled He Tian's collar, bringing him closer. There was no one in the ground to witness this heated round of bullets—he was oblivious to that at the particular moment. "If you say another word, I'll bite your tongue off."

"What an interesting choice of words." In a blur, lean, strong, iron fingers wound around his wrist violently, twisting it to a lethal point where he let out a hiss of surprised, stunned pain. As the pressure built up and the fingers changed the angle of the twist in sadistic move, tears sprang to his eyes in excruciation. "A word of advice—don't mess with me."

He swallowed the lump stuck in his throat, his breaths tremoring.

"Leave me." He said lowly. "Leave me and fuck off. Or I'll swear to god I'll cut you up."

"You weren't this confrontational last time you and I got crazy. So let me reward you with an A for effort." Saying that, the bastard wrung his wrist. The shock of pain was brilliant; he lunged into He Tian, taking him aback. Two teenage boys, having a playful fight out in the sun. They both rolled on the moist, freshly watered grass.

That was what anyone would assume if both of them were in their periphery, but it was nothing of the sort. It was a struggle for power, and one of pride.

In a dazed, delirious haze, he registered He Tian's grip loosening in surprise. An opportunity was revealed, and he took advantage of it.

He shoved his hand into He Tian's pants, blindly groping for his dick. There was a perverse moment of confounded silence, where both of them froze simultaneously mid-action, his hand cupping a dick that wasn't his. It was another, whole new level of crazy weird he hadn't debated experiencing. He could see the thunderstruck expression on the bastard's face. Fuck it. His grip tightened involuntarily.

He'd have stressed 'involuntarily' at that moment. It was the turning point, he would have said. The moment everything went to utter hell and was hilariously ironic. Karma sure bit the asses of those who never repented, he thought gleefully. He still had nightmares about his legs being splayed apart forcefully and balls being twisted. He Tian, it seemed, was shaking, covering his face with an arm.

"Yeah, shake in fear." He sneered contemptuously, before frowning. "Hey, you asshole, I am about to give you back your own shit."

Something pulsed in his hand, and his head blanked out for a moment. That was the moment when He Tian grinned foxily, eyes mirthful.

" _WHAT THE FUCK?!_ " Horrified as He Tian's dick jerked in his hands once again, he drew his hand out as fast as a thunder bolt, nearly going backwards and smashing the base of his skull on the grass. He Tian's hands steadied his hips, but the bastard was laughing uncontrollably as his horror grew.

"You are fuckin' sick, you bastard." He screamed, trying to yank his body away from the bastard, but the iron grip that He Tian had on his hips indicated that he wouldn't be budging for a long time. He floundered for several seconds to get control of the scuffle, but He Tian hauled him forward, and he fell on him.

"Hey, did I forget to mention that I have a thing for pain?" The bastard sounded like he had been stuffing his throat with—fuck, the imagery was beyond unnecessary at the moment.

"A fuckin' lot, you sick freak!" He echoed, scandalized. He drew back, searching the bastard's face.

He Tian's carefree, careless gaze soon turned into one of agitation.

"What—" He opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat as thighs clamped around his body, twisting it sideways and flipping him around powerfully. The next thing he knew, he was lying on the grass and there was a sickening crack that nearly deafened him. Eyes wide, he stared into He Tian's slack face. The bastard's eyes rolled back, and he swayed mid-air for a moment. Wetness dribbled onto his cheek, and he realized with a start that it was blood. He Tian slumped lifelessly against his chest.

"What the hell?" He began weakly, and went rigid when a familiar face obscured his view of the sky.

"We meet again, Mo Guan Shan." Lay Yin smiled unpleasantly. He held up a blunt bat. "Knew it was a good idea to follow you into the school grounds. What can we do now? You don't mess with the kids of our school, you know that."

He was fucked. And judging by the way He Tian was almost bleeding his brains out, the bastard already was.


	11. Chapter 11

There was a momentary, strangled silence where both the opponents of the figurative battlefield stared down at one another. Mo ignored He Tian's dead weight sliding off his chest as he straightened his torso, looking up at the problematic, wannabe douchebag standing in front of him, having the gall to jut out his hip cockily.

"What?" Lay Yin snickered, swinging his bag toward him like a toy. He had the presence of mind to lean back before it smacked him in the face. He was pissed off, alright.

"What do you want?" He asked, voice a low timbre. "It had better be a good one, you bastard."

"What I want, eh?" Lay Yin echoed him, coming down to a casual, deceptive crouch. He casted a surreptitious glance over the douche's shoulder, to see if any of Lay Yin's lackeys were coming. He spotted none. Was the bastard asking for a death wish? He cracked his knuckles languidly, Lay Yin's gaze zeroing in on the motion.

"Oh no you don't." He murmured dangerously, looking up at Lay Yin. "You interrupted my fight, asshole." The waters between them were murky with hatred, and electric tension swathed the atmosphere. It was the kind that questioned which snake was poised to strike first. Malice ran rampant through him; why the fuck did he have to deal with this shit when he wasn't asking for it? In the face of his mother's condition and the necessity for money, all other petty problems and fights seemed to fade to a bland echo of what they had been earlier.

"Be glad I took care of that." Lay Yin scoffed, edging closer towards him. "Who is he? A minion? An enemy? Doesn't matter, 'cause your ass is mine."

 _Minion?_ Mo cocked a dark eyebrow, wondering whether Lay Yin was truly out of it. He didn't know whether the guy had a penchant for pain, arriving at a time where his hands itched for a fight. Working the crick out of his neck, he thought about how somebody's blood was going to get spilt; it sure as hell wasn't going to be his.

"Uh, I don't think you are in any position to fight against me, Mo Guan Shan." Lay Yin remarked sardonically, and he stared at the delusional fucker with incredulity.

"And why's that, shit-stain?" He sneered. "Too afraid to dirty your hands? Will mommy deares' make ya jizz your pants in fear?"

"Shut up." Lay Yin was red in the face, and he got onto his feet, steeling his shoulders. "I'll beat you to a pulp."

The promise hung viciously in the air, poison dripping off of the words. Had he been a lesser person, he would've flinched at the commandeering personality that Lay Yin seemed to exude—but the guy had no brains, only brawn. This little interlude had made him miss the only bus en route to his neighbourhood, and a glance to his watch told him that it was three. For that alone, he was going to pulverize Lay Yin.

"I'll kill you, little bitch. You cost me a fuckin' ride back home." He said murderously, advancing towards Lay Yin. "That asshole lying over there is mine to mess with, and you've jus' pissed me off."

"Oh, I am shaking in fear." Lay Yin cooed, gesticulating towards the motionless body with his bat. "And what the fuck are you going to do, Mo Guan Shan? Choke on his underwear?"

Oh, that son of a bitch was going _down._

Senses sharpening in a quicksilver second, he ducked as the bat cleanly swerved over him. That would have taken his head off.

"Looks like you want the punch." He sneered. "Well then, I'll show you your fuckin' punch!"

Mo grabbed Lay Yin by his collar, before slamming his head against the twerp's skull. There was an explosion of white where he momentarily lost track of his equilibrium and fell back, trying valiantly to regain momentum. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lay Yin clutching his head like he's had an aneurysm, and he shook his head to get rid of the dizziness, before lifting the dropped bat.

 _"Hey_ there, fucker! 7'o clock!" He savoured the faint surprise that Lay Yin showed, before he smashed the blunt end into the fucker's face. He was promptly rewarded with the morbid sight of that pudgy, red-splotched nose caving in. Lay Yin tripped over his own feet clumsily, crashing into the bramble bushes behind him with an envious speed.

Mo swiped at the blood dribbling down from the corner of his mouth, hoisting the bat up his shoulder and looking down at the offender, who was currently curled up into a tight ball, clawing desperately at the thorns that clung to his exposed skin. They didn't call him a demon with flaming red hair for nothing. It was nice to live up to his delinquent expectations from time to time. He cocked his eyebrow at the random, uninspired swear words he heard, before spitting a wad of blood and saliva on the grass.

"You have a lot of blood to spare, and I ain't afraid to spill it." He pointed the bat at Lay Yin. "Think twice before comin' 'round to mess with me, shit-stain."

He looked back over his shoulder at He Tian's lifeless body, before entertaining a brief thought of stuffing the body in a duffle, throwing it down a cliff and blaming Lay Yin, before he dispelled the wishful thought. Too troublesome, he deduced, halting to a crouch before He Tian's unconscious frame. The bastard's brows were pinched in pain; probably the last expression he must've had before Lay Yin had knocked him cold. Mo tugged on one strangely soft earlobe, before frowning.

The bastard was bleeding out like a stuck pig. He touched He Tian's head, before pulling his hand back idly. When he was greeted with the the sight of blood smeared over his fingers in generous amounts, he swore. All thoughts of torturing He Tian evaporating, he gingerly lifted the bastard's head, before running his fingers through the base of the bastard's skull, finding the hair matted with thick blood. Alarm seized his chest in a confounding moment, and he looked intensely at He Tian's unresponsive features, even as his mouth ran dry.

"Don' go dead on me jus' yet, you bastard." It was sheer luck he hadn't been in the trajectory of the bat, he thought. But there was something else besides that; a persistent thought nagged him. The abrupt realization steered clear all the chaotic thoughts fluttering around in his head, and he instinctively gripped He Tian's jaw.

"Asshole." He muttered, heart thundering. "You took it for me, didn't you? You took the goddamn hit. Sonofabitch, you _saw_ that asshole Lay Yin comin' from the back—"

He hoarsely called out for help, voice faltering in a way he hadn't meant for it to, before realizing soberly that school was out and that the clinic had probably shut it for the day. He hauled He Tian up onto his shoulder, shutting out Lay Yin's delirious groans of pain. His own head ached brilliantly from the force of the headbutting he had done—perhaps he'd went overboard with that.

 _Fuck, he's_ _heavy._ The thought was accompanied by a struggle to lock the bastard's flailing legs around his waist, and he wasn't shy to call He Tian a goat-fucker out loud when the bastard's right shoe poked him in the shin, eliciting a sharp, torturous pain. He had to get a cab fast, if not a bus—which was a hopeless situation anyway, considering that they had missed potential rides at the only bus station in sight, near Mei's stop for rice dumplings and dragon fruits.

Trudging through the road under the sweltering heat of the sun, He Tian's head drooped down to hang a little lower over his shoulder. He angled his head to the side, nose brushing against He Tian's cheek. Scowling, he snapped his gaze to the road, ignoring the rhythmic, humid breath over his collarbone.

"You kinda deserved to get all knocked up." He muttered. "You shouldn't have intervened, bastard. This was between him an' me."

There was no reply, and he wondered about the surreality of the situation.

"You aren't gonna be in a coma or some scary shit like that, are ya?" He demanded, voice rough. He was met with dead silence. There was no way the bastard had died on him, had he? The logical part of him banished the thought as suddenly as it had come, as soft, warm breaths skated across his skin. It was all the proof he needed, but he wasn't able to name the tight feeling that resided in his chest.

"I am not worryin'." He said aloud. "I won't, not for a smartass shit like you, you bastard. Or for any fucker. I don' worry."

He blew a stand of red hair that hung over his right eye.

_Don' die on me._

Bikers rushed past them, smoke billowing out of their exhausts, before he gave in and asked for a free ride.

They made to the hospital in no time, and a nurse ushered him outside, before giving him a strange, brief appraisal. He absently looked at his hands, feeling oddly bereft when they had taken He Tian away from him.

"Aren't you the son of a patient we'd had yest—"

"Fuck off." He said roughly, leaving her speechless as he ran down the stairs. There was only so much shit he could tolerate in a day. Save him from prying nurses and the rest of the gossipy spawn. He Tian could rot in here by himself. He'd done his business, anyhow.  



	12. Chapter 12

Routine was becoming boring, and he had to watch with bleary eyes that spoke of exhaustion as the toaster burned the remaining bread. It tooted triumphantly, even as the milk in the casserole overflowed from the heat.

Yeah, his concentration was elsewhere. They really needed to replace several stupid pieces of equipment in their kitchen. He felt like kicking it out, and then sleeping in late until eleven. His ma was at the hospital, being fussed over by the nurses there. She'd called him at six, asking for her son to 'get out of that bed, I know you are still in there'. Gods, there was _no_ winning with that hard-boiled woman.

"Mo Guan Shan!" Nianzu slapped his shoulders, and he returned the gesture as they crossed each other in the corridors. It was still too early for the students to be pouring into the classes in a configurative heap, but there were a sizable smattering of students about. Some of the girls were sitting on the desks, swinging their stocking-clad legs back and forth as they laughed and gossiped. The sound of metal doors being pried open, and groans that accompanied them greeted him as he went past the lockers. All the time, he kept his eyes firmly trained ahead. Chen Fang greeted him with a toothy grin, waving his arms about like a maniac.

"Ay, what's up, man? You look down."

"It's the mornin'." He replied flatly. "It does stuff with my brain. Fuck, I dunno. Can I skip on that dumb algebra class?"

"Algebra's fine." The wiry-looking kid told him dismissively. "Now calculus, that's the real shit you'll have to pray not to do fuck up in. I went through my sister's book yesterday. By far the worst, man."

"An' what were you doin' with your sister's text?" He rolled his eyes as Chen Fang jabbed his elbow into his chest.

"Nah. Mom's just prepping me for that entrance exam and shit. Real competitive, and if I don't want to end up like that uncle of mine, I have to get in some nice college. And hey, didja hear? Sui from the opposite class saw He Tian in the hospital yesterday!"

"Heard it." He said morosely, masking his immediate reaction, hands in his pockets as Chen Fang moved to his locker. "Did the chick offer herself as a sacrifice or somethin'? Big deal—the bastard got himself thrashed. It's not the end of the world."

"Hey wait a sec, it's kind of weird." Fang knitted his eyebrows together pensively. "You weren't really up to speaking up until I mentioned He Tian. Ah man, he _really_ is getting to you, isn't he?"

"You lookin' for a black eye or what?" He growled.

"Careful! Those batty teachers have ears." Chen Fang breathed out, struggling to pry open his locker door. "Oh, why does this door. Refuse. To—" Another ancient groan. " _Open!_ "

The rickety locker gave way to a gargantuan whine as it was forcibly opened, and he winced at the insuppressible goosebumps—the unpleasant kind—that rose with the noise.

"Anyway, the guy's lucky. Heard he moved into the Shang-Pei apartments earlier this year. Have you seen how it's like?!"

He bit back any reply. Yes, he had. Involuntarily at that, and had been forced to cook in an utterly humiliating move, even as the bastard scrutinized him with lascivious eyes the entire time.

"Guess I'll see you later, dude."

The bell clanged, signalling the start of the first class.

"Get back to your classes!" Some prefect yelled. "Get inside!"

* * *

In the recess, he found himself standing in front of He Tian's homeroom class. The bastard's seat was empty, and there was no sign of any bags hooked to the side. This was the fourth day He Tian hadn't come to school. He balled his fists, jerking away from the door like he was burned. Why did he keep coming back?

* * *

The restaurant owner scanned him with owl like eyes hidden behind thick-rimmed spectacles.

"Eh, you are asking me for more shifts?"

"Yeah." He said gruffly. "I am in a tight spot now, Bai-Lu. Need money to keep up."

"I don't know." Bai Lu scratched his bare scalp absently. "I mean, we were already keeping up just fine. However, it sounds like you really need the money. What for?"

He hesitated. Revulsion struck back. There was no point in holding on to pride. Was it going to save his mother from becoming mincemeat? It really wasn't going to help, not one bit.

"Ma's in surgery."

"Sorry to hear that little guy. Tell you what, I can extend three nights for you, if you want. All delivery services. Can you handle it, with school?"

He wanted to say no. His finals were coming up, and he was already more than burned-out from lethargy. His mouth betrayed him instinctively. "Yeah, sure. Give me the timin'."

* * *

As he waited outside the shop, leaning against a post and gazing at the overcast sky, he thought of the confrontation he had had with Lay Yin the other day. Was the asshole planning something? Like he didn't have enough on his plate already. A red scooter with an emblazoned sign of the shop was sitting a few feet away from him, newly oiled and all revved up. The first day of his delivery shift had begun, and he wasn't sure if he could handle dropping off sixteen deliveries in one night, like he had seen some guys at the station do. Bai-Lu had assured him that he was only having a few this night.

The man poked his head out of the diners, pushing his specs up before handling him a thermal food bag and a long slip containing addresses.

"Drive safely." He said, patting him on the back. "Hurry back soon and park it back in the cabin. You know where it is."

"Yeah." He muttered stiffly. "Thanks." The word sounded foreign and out of place in his mouth. It was unfamiliar, leaving a foul taste in him mouth that he was unable to get rid off. He didn't look back as he swung himself onto the bike seat, hitting the pedal. The blood-curdling roar as the bike came to life wasn't unfamiliar to him; he had driven state of the art trucks when he was underaged at his grandfather's ranch out in the countryside.

The wind whistled past him as he descended on the road, driving past the few sparse vehicles with a certain sort of ease that had him thrilled, excited and full of life. It spurred his mind, and he felt like he was draining all the tension, all the damn stress and elevating to a new space as he sped past headlights and trees, feeling free.

He parked near the first cottage, and as soon as he rang the bell, the door shot open and something round and decidedly red whizzed past him. He jumped out of the way, unnerved.

"What the fuck?"

"Ahhh, mommy, he said a _bad_ word." Two large innocent pools of eyes looking up at him under brown, tousled hair. "The F word. F—fuck."

The kid giggled, before an embarrassed, flushed mother appeared before him, murmuring apologies as she took the chicken wrap from his hand and pressing a wad of cash in his right hand. The door slammed shut in his face, and he pulled the base of his palm over his nose in exasperation.

This was going to be an excruciating chicken delivery session.

* * *

Two hours later, he was more than ready to revise his options as he stared holes through the gaudy piece of paper in his hand.

Shang-Pei apartments, 52-C. Why was it sounding so familiar? So—

_Anyway, the guy's lucky. Heard he moved into the Shang-Pei apartments earlier this year. Have you seen how it's like?!_

He took a few feeble steps towards his bike.

It had to be a coincidence.

He knew that the bastard lived there, but that was not to disregard the hundreds of people in those buildings who might have had a sudden craving for chicken. Mind sent careening into a tailspin, he could only ride through the winding lanes in silence.


	13. Chapter 13

Fear wasn't stopping him; the war of wills that battled mercilessly in him was. The prominent ridge of his throat bobbed in an uncharacteristic show of emotions, and every step that he took towards the elevator felt heavy and final—he loathed the repugnant feeling with emotion. The cadence of his heart increased as the elevator rose steadily, every storey it passed providing a magnificent, widening view of Hangzhou in all her lighted, blazing glory in the night. Sweat broke across his neck in rivulets, and he vaguely considered taking his helmet off. No, it provided him with a flimsy semblance of control and anonymity.

 _Don't be stupid._ A voice in him whispered harshly. Firmly. _He's not gonna be the next one. This is just a coincidence._

But his gut twisted in elaborate ways, bringing all sorts of feelings bubbling up within him, so uncertain and intangible. It was almost as though he couldn't believe he was in this moment. With trembling fingers—he still wasn't sure why they were juddering _sodamnmuch_ — he lifted the coarse slip with the serrated edges, gaze falling on the last address in the list.

Shang-Pei apartments, 52-C.

52-C. He strode out of the lift with the plastic bag, eyes automatically scanning through the number plates aligned neatly near the large, oak doors that seemed to swallow the huge walls. 64-B, 65-B, 66-B....This wasn't B. He ran through the corridor, the muscles of his legs flexing and uncoiling painfully as he swiftly rushed past each gargantuan door, feeling out of place like an oyster in an octopus. The long expanse of corridor ended with 49-B and a set of stairs going downward, and he took in a sharp breath, his damp breath clouding the visor of his helmet.

Ten seconds later, he was in front of 50-C. Another four seconds, and he was frozen at the familiar doormat in front of fucking 52-C, with a blank face. It was as though his body wasn't receptive of what his mind told him, and the packet of foil-packed hot chicken swung listlessly in his hand, as though wanting to jump into the safe hands of the asshole who had ordered it. Well, fuck the goddamn chicken. He wasn't—he wasn't thrilled about customer satisfaction anyway. He was going to call it quits.

Biting back a litany of curses, his thumb found the blood red bell button, and pushed it. Mo could hear the ringing from within, a faint audible series of tinkles, and prepared to dump the chicken and run. He was apprehensive of what he might see. Shit, what if Lay Yin had hit the bastard too hard that the pathetic guy was bedridden? It wasn't like he had hung around and shit to see how He Tian's condition was when the bastard had woken up. Maybe the guy was going to unleash his anger on the next idiot who appeared in front of his goddamn face. The helmet added additional protection then, he thought soberly. He sure as hell wasn't going to go down without a decent fight—

The door swung open, and it was some kind of a stunned, heavenly miracle he didn't drop the packet onto the rubber mat.

" _Goddamn._ "

He wasn't even aware that he had said that out loud, at least he wasn't until cool, red-rimmed eyes grazed over his face. A sure-fire, familiar little smirk that looked like it had seen better days.

"I didn't know it shocked people to meet me for the first time." The source of most of his woes mused, leaning against the door way and arching an eyebrow like he owned a kingdom. He dubiously stared at the fresh, white line of cloth wrapped securely around He Tian's temple, damp strands of dark hair framing it in wispy lines.

He Tian had donned on a pair of sinfully tight, threadbare shorts that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It rode below the hard jut of the bastard's hipbones, causing him to gape openly.

That gaze floated lazily down to the packet, before climbing back up and looking at his head. Or rather, his helmet.

"Ah yes," The drawl was back, and it was almost a seductive purr. "The chicken." Oh Gods, it sounded perverse on his tongue.

_Just take the goddamn chicken and let me leave._

As though he had heard his mind, He Tian levelled him a gaze that was nothing short of taunting, before smirking enigmatically.

"The incognito look isn't really the look this summer." Slender fingers ripped open the lid of a beer tin. "The girls will tell you. Seriously, chicken-boy, what's up with the helmet?"

He thrust out the packet and a piece of paper for He Tian to sign, not trusting himself to say a word as relief flooded him in a paralyzing rush, turning his legs into two automated sticks that attempted to keep balance.

_Fuck, the bastard doesn't realize it's—_

"You know, you're pretty silent for a delivery guy. About time those guys hired someone who didn't gossip like a rat." He Tian took one deep swig from the beer can, slender throat juddering smoothly as the liquid went down. This close, he could see some honey-like, bronze droplets escaping down the bastard's chin, down the delicate line of the pale neck.

Did the bastard have a habit of opening his door half-naked?

There was a brief pause which dragged on as He Tian assessed him with calculating eyes, and he could've sworn that there was an unnatural sharpness in that gaze, before it morphed into something playful.

"I have many other promises for your manager." He Tian's tone had changed in a heartbeat, and this time, his eyes were positively sinful as his tone dropped to a rich, sultry, husky contralto. His heart skipped a beat. "And I'd like to look for other...delicious options. Something juicy and fiery upon my tongue. Creamy and elegant."

Dazed, the grip he had on the packet loosened.

"I must be making no sense to you." Just like that, the unanimous spell was broken, smashed into smithereens as He Tian reared back, running deft, artful fingers through his hair. "But I'd wager that you'd like to taste these things." He Tian looked at him from beneath his lashes. The hot, addictive brand of sheer lust was back with a vengeance, and the attraction sparked the air between them with renewed vigor. He curled his fingers, trying to keep himself from lashing out, from acting out on his instincts. The helmet his head was covered by gave him a false sense of relief.

"Oh yeah, you must be cold. How rude of me." The door creaked inaudibly as He Tian leaned on it, face hovering near his. "Come inside and maybe I can get you all nice and toasty."

 _Oh Gods._ The bastard's voice ripped through the measly barrier he had constructed around his sanity, and the only thing that he wanted to do was to get all that exposed skin bitten and marked and raw and red, and He Tian moaning in sheer pleasure as he came hard and fast.

Then there was a hand on his collar, and he was yanked in through the door way. A door slammed shut as his eyes adjusted to the dim, vignette light of a wall lamp. The chicken packet fell onto the fall, bouncing harmlessly and breaking the sudden spell he had been under in a heartbeat. A hand on the small of his back, pulling him in.

"Take off the helmet." The voice was a rich, smoky contralto, and the shapely expressive black eyes were even more so. "Are you trying to prove a point?"

He remembered who this was, and where exactly he was, before all but ripping off the helmet from his head and nearly tearing his head off in the process. He gave an ugly sneer, appraising the blood stained linen.

"Why'd I ever wanna prove a point with you?" He threw the helmet onto the sofa. "I could jus' as easily hammer it in. Like some Lay Yin dipshit had."

"Is that why you came here?" He Tian asked, tone dangerous. "To get answers? Collaborative efforts?"

"What the fuck are you yammerin' on about?"

"That Yin guy who'd jumped into the scene. Is he in one of your cute little squads?" He Tian drawled, falling back on the sofa seat and draping his bare arms across it. "I guess you came back to finish the job. Too bad. I thought you had potential."

"Wha—are you for real?" He asked, incredulous. Accusations? From where the hell did they come from? The bastard had the nerve to imply he staged it on _purpose_?!

"Just confirming." He Tian took another swig, before getting up. "You wouldn't do that—I mean, if you did, you'd be dead."

And wasn't that a bloody consolation?

"I was jus' doin' my job." Mo pinched the bridge of his nose. "And you've jus' given me a hell of a headache. You'll pay for that at school." With that, he grabbed his helmet, before making a move towards the door.

"Not so fast." He Tian's belligerent voice made him stop abruptly. He breathed in slowly, before turning around. The asshole raised the can of beer in a mock-toast, before grinning at him.

"Take me to the central park."

He spluttered. "I am not your goddamn cabbie! Are you outta your mind? I'll fuckin' kill you if you say anythin' more."

"You wouldn't." He Tian reassured him blithely. "It's five minutes away."


	14. Chapter 14

"Who spends the night under the stars anyway?" Mo asked, crossing his arms behind his head, feeling and looking like he had swallowed something sour and not very good for his digestion.

"I do." He Tian sent him an even look. "Do you _want_ to die? Relax—"

He scowled at that, predictably.

"—I like the moon just fine in the night. She's sexy out in the dark. So, just unwind and stop thinking. I can smell your brain frying like an egg over here."

"Fuck no, I won't be doin' that." He said flatly, even as He Tian plopped down on the grass, exposing a flash of skin as his shorts rode down, down below the curve of his ass, and no, his throat didn't go as dry as the sand in Sahara at that. He kept his gaze dutifully trained to his toes instead. The most uninteresting thing in the world, but it helped him remove his mind from alien, uninspired thoughts.

"This is getting old, don't you think?" He Tian offered, a unsettling glint in his eye that even he could see this far away from the bastard. He didn't like it one bit, and it had a magnetic allure that crushed his uncertainty to small bits. His mouth flattened to a taut, unhappy line when his feet moved swiftly over the grass, towards the spot He Tian was patting on over for him. He made sure to stop several feet away from the bastard, before dropping to a crouch.

"Trust me, red, I am not going to sink my teeth into you." He Tian laughed, propping up his head on one hand and sinking the elbow into the soft, verdant grass as he regarded him with over-bright, haunting eyes.

"I am not a vampire, and even if I were, I happen to have a feeling your blood will give me diarrhoea." He Tian continued, looking bored with each word. It had him sending a nasty look, one which he hoped conveyed all his damn hate. Because right now, he loathed the bastard with every fiber of his being.

"Not funny, bastard." He bit out, leaning back on his heels and inspecting the blades of grass he had plucked out. A part of him admitted to feeling at peace like this; out here in the middle of nowhere, with the night sky spanning out forever. It brought home a curious sense of peace, even if peace was the last thing he would associate with simply being in the bastard's presence.

Funny how a cascade of events would turn into this, whatever it seemed to be. Mo chanced a glance back at He Tian after a while, and his heart galloped—fuckin' surprise—when He Tian looked at him, eyes reflecting a peculiar sort of intent. The outline of his hair shone as the moonlight radiated off of it, looking disturbingly enough like a halo.

All his thoughts rammed to a sudden, vicious halt when He Tian stretched out like a lithe cat, exposing his sculpted chest and arching his back. Weary, self-aware and just plain baffled, he turned his gaze away. Whatever happened to the hate? It sure as hell hadn't disappeared, hadn't snuffed out like an old flame - if anything, it was simmering with an unbearable, unthinkable intensity under his skin, a feat that no one else had accomplished, not with him.

Of course, He Tian was a novelty in himself. Everything associated with the bastard was. A spacious home, wide and empty and luxurious—and it lacked the air of any feeling. Of warmth and of family. There was no other word for it; it was simply empty. An uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling conquered him. A lot of things that never seemed to add up.

Mo Guan Shan was impulsive, brash and prone to recklessness himself, but he wasn't a fool who relied on brute strength to carry him through the day. He was keen. He was observant. And observation told him that there was something definitely wrong in the way that bastard He Tian carried himself around. Definitely a lot like he was meant to be somewhere else. A smidgen of doubt took root in his mind, and he nearly groaned. All of this was not suitable for someone like him—he despised the situation.

"You know," He Tian started lazily. "One of these days, you are gonna burn me with that stare of yours, sweetheart, if you haven't already."

"You can take your _sweetheart_ and go kiss my ass, fucktard."

"I'll do that and more." He Tian appraised him with a feline stare, top to bottom, with a half-lidded, drowsy scrutiny that tore all semblance of logic away from him. "And you know, I think you'll find out that you enjoy it."

He returned the stare blankly, but the warmth in his cheeks grew tenfold at the pure look of concentrated lust, which made his mind woefully blank.

"What does it feel like to be a homo and get mauled by chicks?" He muttered with resentment when he got his bearings back, glowering weakly at the bastard's back. He Tian straightened, the muscles of his back visible and rippling like a tremulous storm. He felt like laving a hot tongue on all that bare skin, tearing through it and making the bastard ache for _more_.

An animalistic growl rose in his throat, a low, bestial sound that made even him shudder at the want in it. That was before he regained control, snatching his eyes away. The bastard looked over his shoulder, looking straight at him with a dark, unflinching gaze.

"I like experiments. Sometimes I get bored with them. Till now, you haven't disappointed."

"I am not your experiment. So, you can take that thought an' shove it up someone's ass. Or yours. It ain't gonna matter."

"Red, I don't really like telling anything but the truth." That smirk which appeared on the bastard hinted everything to the contrary. "But, you know, I am not going to beat you up."

" _Yet._ " He Tian added in an afterthought. "So just sit here and relax. No mind games on this one. Reservation's on me."

And holy fuck, he didn't know what to say to that. He pulled out another bunch of grass strands, not knowing what to do with the admission. Bloodlust was shrouded in the dark recesses of his mind, hidden in some non-descript nook, and he reached out for words. Curses, threats, promises of blood—they were on the tip of his tongue, waiting at the slightest provocation to come out. But He Tian didn't offer him that satisfaction, simply content to observe him stewing over several conflicting feelings. He curled his fingers, wondering if this would be the right time to just get up and bolt away on his bike. He didn't have words, and he was the kind of guy who reserved many for any occasion. The bastard had stripped him of all thought, and mercilessly at that. It was so easy to get away from the bastard, through the dark alleyways of Ping-Lei, pick up rice and salmon as usual and get back home.

"Ah, I feel like getting drunk." He Tian tipped his head back, and that criminally long, pale neck came into view. It looked delicate, and he might have mistaken it for being a girl's if it hadn't been for the spine that it led to, unmistakable muscles coiled under that thick, hot skin. He thought of how the bastard would look like under him. On the sheets. Twisting and _spreading_ those legs for him. Mouth open in a soundless gasp, for He Tian would never succumb to the temptation of letting out an actual gasp. The thought had an edge of hysteria, and he grasped his red hair, yanking on it get some blood back into his brain, in an effort from keeping it going down south.

"Get drunk and luckily you'll choke on your own vomit in the morning and die." He said sourly.

He Tian let out a surprised little laugh, as though the bastard hadn't been expecting it.

"One of these days, you are going to run out of creative insults if you are going to keep wasting them on me. Now, come sit here or do you want me to break your bones if you want to take—" He Tian curved his lips into that obligatory, poisonous smile that sent a sharp thrill of something hot down him. "—extreme measures?"

"Fuck you." He let himself fall back onto the grass with a defeated exhale, running frustrated fingers through red hair in jerky, tense movements. His delivery session for the first day had gone wrong in all kind of ways—his eyebrows twitched when he remembered the mess of crushed tomatoes on his face, and the snot-nosed man who had slammed the door, nearly smashing his nose in the process. He turned his head a bit to the right, bristles of grass brushing against the faint stubble of his cheeks, towards He Tian—the bastard had gone curiously, almost unnaturally silent.

"I can feel your eyes on me." He Tian said, eyes still shut, his expression betraying restlessness.

"Yeah, so you can see through your eyelids?" He scoffed, not taking his eyes away. He Tian snorted.

"Don't be a smartass." The bastard offered. "That's my job. Yours is to look like an innocent punch bag material. And work those girly legs of yours."

"You— _fuck_ , it's like you wanna rile me up an' bust a vein!"

Mo gnashed his teeth together, automatically seeking one of the pieces of rock lying to the side in clumps, before aiming it at the bastard's head. The bloodied line of fresh, white linen wrapped around the bastard's skull severed his movements altogether, and he stared for several seconds, wondering where the peculiar lump in his throat had come from. The grip on the stone loosened as the fight went out of his body, leaving him boneless, uneasy, and tired. It fell down, landing on the grass with a muffled thump.

"I thought you were going take up on your promise." He Tian smirked. "Guess your bark's worse than your bite, red."

"Another word an' I'll break your fuckin' neck." He said under his breath, looking up at the stars. It lessened his ire. Unlike the bastard. But the stars — it was probably emotional, stupid and whimsical, but gods, he could just lay back in this sea of grass and look out at that sea of infinity. Nothing, not even He Tian could ruin this... _curious_ feeling, a feeling altogether pleasant and rare that coursed through him. It put him in one of his friendlier, more amicable moods, like the one he'd have when he'd go and drink beers with Nianzu and Fang and the others. He had been distancing himself from them, they had told him the last time they had met. At the time, he'd called bullshit on it. Now, all his pleasure and pain had been abandoned in the favour of raising money for his ma's operation. He didn't know where to start.

"Back at it with the thinking, huh." He Tian's voice didn't induce the fight and trepidation as it had earlier, only making his muscles tense a bit. "Precisely how hard are you thinking right now?"

"Does it make a difference?" He asked tiredly, eyes shutting close. "Nah, I am still gonna be here tomorrow, fuckin' my way towards somethin' that's more impossible than you not bein' a fuckboy."

It elicited a sharp, unpredictable laugh from He Tian.

"Fuckboy? That's a new one. Should I apologise with my body?"

"Very fuckin' funny, bastard."

"I'll show something even more hilarious, which is your bloodied face. Makes for such a nice picture, doesn't it?" He Tian flashed a quick, confident grin, as though he was used to punching faces on a routine basis. Knowing the maniac, he probably did.

"What's with the chicken?" He Tian asked, after a bit of a pause. "No other jobs around?"

"None of your fuckin' business." He replied, rudeness evident in his tone.

"Well, I am making it my business." He Tian sounded menacing. "You are starting to make me want to."

"Yea—how 'bout a _no_." Maybe he was feeling cranky, irritable, and sweaty. Perhaps it was a combination of the aforementioned factors. Whatever it was, it triumphed over the rational fear in his head, unzipping his mouth.

"What's that I hear?" He Tian rolled over towards him, cocking out an eyebrow. "Someone's thirsty for a challenge. You look bothered, red. I don't know if I should let you drive back home tonight, who knows what's going in that hot mess of a head. Reading about a crash in the morning papers takes away all the appetite, you see."

"It ain't your bike." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "That girl's _mine_ , second hand an' shit. An' imma kill ya if you come near her without me knowin'.

"Wow. Protective. Don't know if I should be jealous." He Tian purred. "Do you even have a license, chicken guy?"

His face betrayed him, eyebrows twitching as he tried to hide the blatant truth.

"I'd guessed." He Tian folded his arms behind his head. "How's the home life?"

"Nothin' solid." He mumbled wearily, brows scrunching. "Lookin' for some money."

"Sounds like you are in some rut. Did your old man end up taking an ungodly loan?"

"He's in the lock up." He said flatly. Drowsiness had made his tongue loose. He disliked the feeling. But something tentative pushed him, urging him to continue. "Ol' man had been on bail for a while, but he got thrown back behind the bars."

"Mine's supposed to." He Tian said, pulling out a lighter from one of his short pockets.

"Shit, really? You too?" He blurted out.

"Yeah. He's in some shady drug cartel." He Tian said calmly, clicking the small switch and watching as flames sprang into life. "Mom and he split a long time ago. I have many brothers—kind of lost count where some of them are. Some of them are with dad."

"Yeah, I—" Mo made an aborted hand movement. "Your house, it's empty."

"Empty's the word." He Tian made a hum of admission. "Family's rich, and I just want to end up away from wherever dad is. The big flat is all for me, to play with. No old folks around. A kind of paradise."

And yeah, he thought it was some kind of a paradise. He hadn't explored it when he had been forced to play an irate cook the last time he had been there, but it was a major change from his shack. His mother had complained about the leaking roof several times, and he had never minded it. It was a bit of an inconvenience, but he was grateful for a roof. After his dad had ended up in the creditor's jaws, there had been all the chances of them losing everything. He was just glad that it didn't cause the loss of their ancestral house, however shitty it was.

Mo watched as He Tian lifted a cigar to his mouth, using the sparks of the lighter to light it. Something in his chest twisted at that. Like an old movie reel unravelling like black, wispy spider threads, everything slowed down. Brain short-circuiting, he wrenched the nicotine stick away, using all his strength to hurl it into the distance.

Dead silence perforated the air, as He Tian's incredulous gaze switched to meet his.


	15. Chapter 15

Cold fear gripped him, and he had to pull himself together. He Tian watched him with lips parted in stunned surprise, before the bastard narrowed his eyes at him. He averted his own, mind repeating _fuckfuckfuck_ like a chaotic mantra that he couldn't stop. Unusual moves created unwanted questions. Any toddler knew that.

On impulse, Mo refused to meet He Tian's calculating gaze, feeling frazzled and out-of-depth.

"What the fuck was that?" He Tian asked him coolly. "You have a lot of guts, to be doing that little shimmy of yours. Three seconds, that's all you have to explain before I make you choke on your own blood."

"Don' smoke in front of me." He said, feeling delirious. "I hate it. I...don' like the smell."

"You—"

"No. Shit, don't." Mo spat out the words with such vehemence that he reeled back, looking surprised at himself. He Tian lifted his head, regarding him with an impassive countenance. He stared back in disbelief, before grief snagged him.

"If you are going to watch your mouth, you better do it now." The bastard looked straight into his eyes, like he was reading his damn soul. "I said, _watch your damn mouth._ "

"What makes you think I'm gonna listen? " He looked away unhappily, a mulish frown on his face. His voice was a shaky tenor as the words came out, wave after wave and puncturing his resilience. "You are the only thing that's been botherin' me. So, yeah. I am gonna go home, 'cause I am too tired right now. An'...yeah, I hate you, you double crossing bastard. I ain't gonna be hangin' around for your mind games."

"Ah, and what kind of mind games are you talking about?" He Tian asked him silkily. "I thought you liked them all the same. Too bad it's the opposite."

He imprinted the words, took them by heart. But the conversation had opened another door, and the culminating reaction toppled him over like a stack of dominoes. Because smoke reminded him of lungs, which reminded him of his mother and the fucking money he had to conjure in under a month. His ma never smoked. A good character she was, and he never did see her smoke. And then he comes to learn that she had ended up with this condition of hers. Mo wasn't supposed to endure this shit, this reality only happened to people who truly fucked up.

He shot up, hands blindly reaching out for his bike. He Tian watched his jerky, violent movements as he tried to get up on his heels. He ignored the bastard, moving towards the bike half buried in the shrubs.

"You are going to leave now?"

He stopped short. The question held all sorts of connotations. It was a fucking _landmine_ , that question.

"What did you think?" Mo crumpled his fists. "That someone like you could hope to boss me around? Take that kind of thought and stuff it up a _goddamn_ vent. I am not gonna be sticking around for your load. You don' realize this, do you? It's gonna be a fuckin' disaster if I stick here."

"I think you are over thinking things. You are gonna regret it in the morning." He didn't have the nerve to swivel around and meet the bastard's eyes. "Maybe it's all the chicken, doing things to your brain. Get back here and shut up."

He put a shaky foot in front of him, pleasure flooding him at the thought of disobedience. This was what he was—

No. Shit, no. He couldn't do this. His scraped his knees cleanly as he fell on them, his heated cloud of anger thawing as his body offered no resistance. Falling back onto the grass, he blinked up at the dark, star-studded sky.

It jarred him. Mo wanted to call quits, call quits on the machinations and all the lies and deceit and—

A cool breath on his ear, and sure, steady arms wound around his hips, caging him. Hands flitted above his hips, sure and strong. It made him relax fractionally, although blood roared in his ears like he was underwater. His ma wasn't dead, and fuck it all, he was going to die before he ever mentioned to anyone, much less his mortal enemy about the litany of thoughts that had gone through his mind.

"Red. I am not gonna carry your sorry ass back to where ever you live. Damn, if you don't tell me, I am going to have some white hair. _Not_ fun." He Tian added, looking as considerate as ever. He turned around, and found that face looking down at him dispassionately. But the eyes, those dangerous eyes were sharp, cutting through his terror-addled mind.

"Fuck, I—" He opened his mouth, before shutting it. As he regained control of his faculties, he noticed the proximity. He made a move to jerk away, but He Tian took the liberty of binding his wrists to the grass, almost bruising his skin. His face must have contorted at the slight pain, for He Tian's hold softened, still firm and wholesome.

"—I ain't explainin' myself." He said stubbornly. "You'd better let go."

"Not a chance. I haven't had the chance to slit your throat from behind and play trampoline on your guts." The tone of his voice was like he was discussing the god damn weather, instead of levelling blatant threats at him, he realized with incredulity. Each word was punctuated by a hot exhale against the crook of his neck. He Tian was blocking the sky, and his view of the stars. Furious at the manhandling, he brought a thigh up, intending to kick the bastard away.

His body, it seemed, had other plans. It fit snugly between He Tian's legs, so much like a jigsaw piece and he felt like someone had kindled a slow, burning fire within. He Tian's eyes darkened at the challenge, and those sinful lips quirked into something playful and sexy.

Mo yanked He Tian down, pulling the naked length of his torso against his own red, standard restaurant shirt, sliding a warm knee between the bastard's thighs, brushing over the cotton that covered his groin. Hands sliding over the skin of He Tian's spine, he found himself staring into surprised, intense eyes. Pitch black as it was, he could see the fire in them.

"I didn't know you had it in you." He Tian's eyes flickered down to his lips, a tempting movement that had him freezing, unsure of what the fuck to do.

"Tell me." His skin was feverish. It felt feverish. When warm lips wrapped around the peak of his ear—lips wet and moist like the dewy grass they were on—his mind zoned out. "Tell me what's worrying you."

"Don'—ah, for fuck's sake, don't."

Lips grazed over his scalded cheeks. Noses knocked. His spine was taut and tense. Hormones were raging with the intensity of a thousand suns. It burned hotter than a solar core in his stomach, fluctuating wildly with its intensity.

"Don't what?" He Tian husked out. His grip on the bastard's sinewy back tightening, his mind slipped in and out of cognizance when he realized just how much of the He Tian's skin was pressing up generously against him.

"Why are you askin' me?" He hissed, breaths tremoring.

"I am not asking you." He Tian smoothened down his lips on the underside of his jaw, breathing hotly on his lips. "I am demanding. You'll find that I am a _very_ demanding person, red. You'll find that out in many _fun ways._ "

It was sinful that the bastard had only donned on a paltry pair of elastic shorts, with everything else exposed abrasively to the elements. The copious amounts of skin that pressed up against his chest and legs drove him to lengths of insanity, and he had pervasive images of the legs that were twined with his own splayed wide, wide apart. He could already envision leaving reddish bruises on He Tian's bronzed, muscular thighs, suckling on the skin so close to the groin and making the bastard ache for more.

"Fuck, you are so—"

He Tian didn't let him complete, rearing back and putting a yawning, hollow gap between them that had him guiltily craving for more. Gods, he had passed the point of no return. Skin flushed and mouth parted, he gazed up at He Tian.

"Fantastic?" He Tian finished for him with an audacious, characteristic grin. The bastard's face was flushed. "Awesome as fuck? I already know it, babe. Everyone tells me that."

"Smartass." Debating on throwing the bastard off of him, he decided not to, convincing himself that he was too weary. He was brought back to that uneasy question, the one that had been plaguing him for a while.

Of all the things that the bastard had done so far, why...just why had he taken the goddamn hit from Lay Yin? Was it to prove a godforsaken point, one which he wasn't aware of? Or was it plain foolishness, a thing that entered into the bastard's mind at the last minute? Mo didn't like the way it made him feel, this entire affair of blood and lies and just—just plain confusion, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a herculean effort because shit, this wasn't how He Tian was supposed to play his role.

The bastard was now gazing down at him squarely, foreheads just shy of brushing against each other. His breaths had evened out, but they shuddered every now and then. He Tian squeezed his wrists compulsively, bringing him back into the land of the living.

"I told you to stop with the thinking, red." He Tian had mercifully stopped moving against him, holding his gaze steadily. He didn't move his hands, the hands that were wound around the bastard's back, locking him into place. He had a feeling that the asshole was simply allowing him to entertain this facsimile of power for a while, and it was beyond infuriating.

"Why'd you take the hit? Back there, before you got knocked out. Why'd you take the hit?" He queried, heart hammering with the force of a million waves that crashed against his chest, stealing his wits away from him all over again. He had to know.

"And how should I answer that?" He Tian asked him seriously. "With such mournful face that you give, do you really want to know? You are out of luck."

"Let's say some secrets are worth keeping, little Mo." He couldn't see the star studded sky now, his vision being obscured by He Tian's face. Their noses briefly grazed against one another, and static tension cracked out like a bull-whip, sending his stomach into spectacular somersaults. Fireworks exploded everywhere He Tian touched him, and it was equal parts painful.

"Lay Yin is going to be out for my head, thanks to you, fucktard." He turned his head to the side, licking his lips briefly.

"Let him." He Tian lifted himself off of his torso fractionally, causing a miniscule gap to open up between them. "He's going have a lot on his plate. I have, ah, plans for him. You don't have to know."

It was probably in the heat of the moment, but his hands automatically tightened on the small of the bastard's back, pushing him back against his chest. He Tian's face morphed into one of surprise, before that expression went away, replaced by a carefree, boyish grin. It had that edge, the edge that promised mischief. But it had something tender to it as well. It roused fear and equal amounts of wonder in him.

"What's this?" The bastard smiled plaintively—all teeth—manoeuvring his hips back up sneakily, before _slamming_ it back home. He let out an unflattering sound that was a hybrid between a growl and a gasp.

"FUCK! Get away from me, you perverted piece of shit!"

It was going to be long night out.


	16. Chapter 16

There was nothing infinitely complex that was said after that, save for the brief exchanges of frenzied taunts and priceless squabbles that echoed into the night air. They found a couple of bottles of booze being sold for four yuan on the side road, and he watched wryly as He Tian downed them one after the other in the midst of animated debates and conversations. The pressure in Mo's chest no longer threatened to break him into smithereens like an explosive grenade and overwhelm him, and he felt his meticulously crafted guards toppling over.

He Tian hiccupped and sighed silently, already lost to the world. Who would have thought the guy was a light-weight drinker? Mo Guan Shan snickered. Then again, he only had a couple of sips as opposed to the bastard, who drank like his life depended on it.

"Tell me, wha' do you plan to do after high school?" His voice was gruff as he stared at the sky with over bright eyes.

"Hmm?" He Tian sounded sleepy. Mo pulled out a wad of grass from the cold, damp earth, before tossing it on the bastard's face. He Tian sneezed in discomfort, but didn't protest in violent means, weakly squeezing his wrist in warning. _Of course, he wouldn't care._ He thought idly. _Bastard's life is already set 'cause of all the old money he has._

After that, it was only a matter of hopping onto the vehicle and going home. He cleared his throat, mounting the bike and straightening his posture. There was only one problem, he realized belatedly as he looked down at He Tian, who was reclining on the grass like a mindless swine.

"If ya don' hop up behind me, "Mo warned. "I'll be happy to let you rot in the grass here."

"No..." He Tian slurred. "Chicken boy...pretty legs..."

His face flushed. That did it, he didn't care if the bastard rotted in the middle of nature, drowning in his own vomit—

As though he were privy to his thoughts, He Tian rolled over and let out a muffled little groan, before throwing up on the verdant stretch of grass nearby.

The next few minutes were spent in herculean, laborious effort as he dragged the bastard to his bike, gingerly propping him up on the seat before getting on in the front. He Tian was ballsy and explorative with his hands, encircling his waist with them like some girl. His ears burned as the bastard left no space between them, shamelessly wrapping himself like a creeper around his body. He Tian snored behind him, his cold nose pressed up in the crook between Mo's neck and ears. Irked, he revved up the bike and it roared like a beast into life, its engine sputtering heartily in the dead void of the night.

It felt like his senses had heightened somehow, for every nerve in his body thrummed and had become alight with all the accidental caressing that was happening. The lake rolled past them as the bike ascended the lazy slope of the road, its surface glittering in the wake of the moon. 

Mo felt warmth bloom all over, even as he tried to forget how He Tian had taken a blow to his head, and his sensitivity was heightened by the bastard's damp mouth pressed up against his neck. He swallowed convulsively. The night kept mum, holding its own secrets, but he felt susceptible. His feelings were mixed. This sort of ambivalence toward a person wasn't typical of him. This here, this felt like a _dangerous_ zone to tread.

When he opened the door to He Tian's apartment, the bastard had more or less come to his senses, even though he was still nursing his bandaged head.

"You still have to sign the delivery pad." He said plaintively, his countenance neutral as he watched He Tian down water like the elixir of life. He clutched the paper and pen in his hand a little tighter, waiting for a retort or a sly dissent, an easy insult poised like a snake on the tip of his tongue.

"Of course. The chicken was delicious." The bastard's voice was a tad playful, even if his expression was tired. He took a step back as He Tian edged closer, shuttering his expression and drawing drapes across his emotions as though no revelations had come up that night. As though neither had learned much about the other that night. Nothing had happened. Mo kept chanting that like a meditative mantra in his head, as though he was offering sweets and incense to the gods on the altar. There were no intimate conversations, for they were on different strata in the society. 

The sooner he forgot this disillusionment of closeness, the easier it was for him to return back to reality.

Even as the light waned as the moon got obscured by the clouds, even as Mo's guise shuttered off from the world—as he buried the feelings and emotions deep in that unreachable part of him—He Tian stepped closer. He didn't realize that he was gripping the pen so tightly, not until his fingers were unfurled and it was pried from him.

The air was hushed, and once He Tian had finished signing, he took an uncertain step forward. The pen fell from his hand and clattered noisily on the marble floor. It fell along with any reservations Mo had had.

"Red—" He Tian began.

He stepped closer to the bastard, and his blood sung as he took in the flushed color in the boy's cheeks. What in Buddha's name was he doing? His heart hammered like a fucking drum being trampled upon by a million elephants. He leaned his hot forehead against He Tian's damp chest, his exhales punctured with turmoil and in tandem with his galloping heart.

"Don' know." He groused. "Can't think. I am done with life."

"Me too." He Tian croaked out. "I think I threw up your chicken I ate. What a waste. But—"

He looked up at He Tian.

"But," He Tian continued slowly, his gaze steady yet unsure. "you can stop thinking. Here—"

The feelings that sprouted out were as warm and sweet as sticky honey and his fingers rose up without his volition. They traced the drying, clotted blood on the cloth wound around the bastard's forehead, and Mo felt a numb pain sear through his heart for an unknown reason. He Tian's mouth opened in a soft, silent circle, but his eyes softened. He got lost in the hot red flush in He Tian's cheeks, and they stood there silently, one appraising the other.

Seconds seemed to pass, but the ethereal moment was quickly broken by the screeching siren of an ambulance outside. He turned around, refusing to meet He Tian's eyes, and left.

* * *

When he stumbled out of the apartment alone, into the bruising cold air, he felt oddly bereft. Like an important moment had slipped through his fingers like loose, silken threads.

There was an undeniable sensation of warmth in his chest. However hard he clutched at his chest, it didn't seem to want to go away.


	17. Chapter 17

It was finally the morning of the first midterm exam.

He walked around the bend of the school roads, scraping the last tasty bits of dumpling that were stuck on the stick with his teeth. The sun bore down on him mercilessly, and he tugged at his collar with a frown. The bag slung over his shoulder seemed to drag him down, but he trudged on alongside the countless number of students streaming down the street in preparation for their exams.

A couple of girls bumped into him, and he swivelled around with a scathing glare on his face. It was evident that they were distracted by the last-minute preparatory notes in their hand as they winced, backing away from him as though he were an embodiment of a mythical beast.

Mo just shook his head, and advanced forward. He heard the scuffle of leather soles against the gritty earth behind him, and almost fell over as someone slung a heavy, albeit friendly arm over his shoulder.

"Wha—" He opened his mouth in protest.

Nianzu looked sheepish as grinned back at him, scratching the dark, short buzz of hair on his scalp.

"Hey boss!" That voice was too cheerful for such a dreadful, dull day. "Were you off drunk last night or what? You didn't turn up to hang out with us. Man, you sure did miss all the fun. Chen Fang and I even chatted up with some cute college girls from Zhejiang University."

"I have no time for such foolish rituals." He said, a mulish frown on his face as he yanked Nianzu's arm off of him. "Will you pay the bills in my house or wha'?"

Nianzu conveniently chose to ignore his darkening mood, yapping on and on about the girls they had met and this great noodle shop they had found downtown, and all that. But his focus was somewhere else, somewhere more specific.

 _Gotta make coins._ He chanted in his head. _Gotta make coins for ma._

It was the whole reason he had been meticulously studying all week. He had no other option but drop out of cram school to save some cash for his mom's operation. Of course, that meant that he had to peruse vast portions of the heavy syllabus material all by himself without a guide, for he couldn't afford a tutor. If he failed his exams yet again, he'd have to apply for a drop year and who the fuck could afford that, given his less than stellar fiscal position?

He clutched his carefully prepared booklet of revision notes harder, as he recalled all the formulae he had learned last night. His eyes drooped in exhaustion as he swayed. He didn't even get a wink of sleep, owing to that bastard He Tian's leery text messages that had him fuming all of last night in between calculus and statistics.

"Oi, Chen Fang, look at this!"

Chen Fang had snuck up behind and caught up to them at some point, and he was looking curiously at what Nianzu had gesticulated toward. Mo followed the boy's line of sight, and saw that they were staring at his revision booklet in wonder.

"Since when did you care about rising over the bottom five in the class?" Nianzu laughed, before his smile sobered into an empathetic grimace.

"So, uh, things are that bad at home, eh boss?"

"I'll break your neck." Mo snapped. "I told you to come help me at the shop and you went off to play around with some girls."

Chen Fang nodded with a serious countenance. "Nianzu has been getting rather promiscuous as of late, that definitely needs to change for the better. Else we'll have a couple of bastard kids running around in no time."

"You give me too much credit." Nianzu had a shit-eating grin. "But alas, you are wrong Chen Fang. He Tian will definitely surpass me in no time at all!"

Mo's face darkened like thunder, and Nianzu gulped.

"No really, look ahead if you don't believe me! He Tian is already rutting with chicks in broad daylight."

It was reflexive. Mo couldn't help but switch his furious gaze from the concrete below to the scene unfolding in front of him. Nianzu was right, to a certain extent. He Tian was a few feet in front of them, creating a protective cocoon of his own from the throng of students who rushed past them with a barrier of female fans who swooned and fussed over their darling's 'fatal' head wounds.

"Oh He Tian _xué zhǎng_ , are you alright? Do you want me to take you to the nurse's office? Lei, you witch, move away! I'll care for _xué zhǎng_. Isn't your boyfriend waiting for you back at the school temple anyway?" The girl who was talking had an unpleasant, condescending look on her face.

"Liar! I don't have a boyfriend, you _wench!_ Don't listen to her, He Tian—" Lei screamed, grabbing onto He Tian's arm with such force that Mo winced. That bastard wasn't made of iron, and how he tolerated those loud harpies was beyond him.

Mo sneered in displeasure, picking up his pace and rushing past He Tian. It was the same, after all. Nothing had changed and He Tian would have a nice, lavish Chinese wedding following all the six etiquettes, exchanging the nuptial cups and all, before settling in a posh home with a picket fence. Unlike him, He Tian's life was all set. The bastard had things handed over to him like it was nothing. He didn't owe He Tian anything, and had even helped the bastard when he was bleeding his brain juices out when Lay Yin had done him in. He owed nothing to He Tian.

Even so, as Chen Fang and Nianzu trailed behind him, lost in their hushed conversation, his gaze found He Tian's. He Tian gave him an unperturbed, smug smile and a smooth salute to go with it. The girls simpered, pushing their soft bodies up against He Tian. Dumbfounded, he shook his head, and strode over the steps of the school building. Things were always the same, and both He Tian and he had no excuses to cross each other's paths again.

* * *

That was what Mo had thought. But acute awareness dawned on him that he was utterly in the wrong. A pained expression crossed his face as he hid beside the blossoms of a bramble shrub in a corner of the school playground. He heard a horrible cluster of voices arguing with one another. He Tian's voice was a low, convincing baritone. Lay Yin's, on the other hand, was high pitched and agitated. Why in Buddha's name was he hiding like a stuck swine out here?

After he had given the admittedly average midterm exam, he had snuck out with Nianzu and Chen Fang in the break to get some cold baijiu across the road beyond the heavily fenced school borders. Chen Fang had just turned eighteen the other day, and the boys wanted to take advantage of it by drinking some liquor. It was just supposed to be a quick business of jumping over the fence and skipping class. Last thing Mo wanted to do was have the school authorities notice and make a riot, bringing his mother's attention to it and making the whole thing messy.

He hadn't expected to find He Tian near the fence, and ducked behind a bush immediately. Nianzu and Chen Fang fell into a crouch in tandem with him as well.

"Boss?" Nianzu sounded confused. "Why are we crouching like this?'

One corner of Mo's lips curved in a smirk. These two really were the most obedient, weren't they?

"Go ahead an' get the baijiu." He ordered. "I'll come later."

"But boss—" The boy protested, but stopped as Chen Fang grabbed a fistful of his collar.

"Didn't you hear him?" Chen Fang complained, his tone low. He Tian was still arguing with the bastard Lay Yin in one corner. Mo tried to peer through the bramble, but it was too dense. "We'll go sneak out and be right back. Mo Guan Shan will be fine."

He nodded in affirmation.

With that, the two boys crawled away and Mo was left behind, stalking that bastard He Tian in a way that was too obsessive to be counted as natural curiosity, if anyone had enquired. Furious, Mo kicked himself internally.

 _Why?_ He cursed. Why had he reduced himself to this eavesdropping, _stupid_ , bizarre mess of a man?

"—you are done for, Lay Yin." He Tian's voice sounded friendly, yet had an undercurrent of danger to it. "And this time, there are no cheap tricks you can grab onto while you are at it."

Lay Yin's voice was tinged with consternation. "You will pay for this!"

"For what?" He Tian laughed. "All because I managed to snag a few pics of your shady drug business here in school? Don't worry, I won't rat you out to the authorities. Really, your ex-girlfriends were so kind in giving me the evidence. You must have been making a lot of paper from that little racket of yours."

"You—you—"

"I usually prefer beating shit heads like you in till you can't crawl anymore." He Tian sounded bored. "But, if you ever come near red—"

Mo's heartbeat quickened when he heard his infamous nickname. He ran his fingers through clumps of his red hair, breaths quickening. Gripping the stems of the shrub a little harder till the thorns cut through his skin, he forced his breaths to be shallow.

"—then I'll obviously settle for more, permanent forms of mental torture. Oh, and a word of advice, don't scorn naïve girls. You never know who'll leak precious things about you in revenge."

Silence.

"Fine." Lay Yin wheezed out. Mo couldn't see his expression from his covert position, but he could picture an ugly, vengeful sneer on that little shit head's face. "My gang won't be happy with this."

With that, he heard the crunch of soles on fresh grass, and was left with the noisy garble of crickets chirping.

"You can come out, red." He Tian called out. "Did you miss me that much?"


End file.
